


Much to Live For

by phoebus_cluster



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, But they're not really enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Swearing abound, but once it's here it'll be bountiful, from city slicker to farmer, some slice of life too, tags 2 come, the answer is an INFURIATINGLY SLOW BURN, theyve just convinced themselves that the other hates them, what happens when 2 depressed people fall in love?, will loosely integrate/interpret 1.1 heart events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebus_cluster/pseuds/phoebus_cluster
Summary: Mila, born and raised in Zuzu City, has grown restless and alienated in her hometown. Adulthood in the city had taken its toll on her. After inheriting her grandfather's farm in the Valley, she's determined to not let it happen again.Shane, wise from experience, knows better than to wear his heart on his sleeve. When he spots the obvious new face in Pelican Town, he shoves the immediate intrigue conjured by his mammalian brain as far towards the back of his thoughts it'll go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all. Long time AO3 reader, first time writer. EVER. No, like, this is my first fic I've ever written!  
> I'm aiming for an update a week, so I apologize in advance for any delays along the way. I do, however, have a week off coming up, so I'm gonna try and get a handful of chapters banged out in this time.  
> I hope this isn't too awkwardly written! Also, this is as much about the farmer/Mila's interactions with the rest of the townsfolk as it is about Shane C:  
> Prepare for the most annoyingly slow burn ever as two adults with nonexistent self-esteem vie for each other's attention.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Mila knew it wasn't going to be easy, but she was ready.

She had lived in Zuzu City her whole life.

She had grand plans after she graduated high school; finish college, take on some internships, travel, and cultivate her creative hobbies. Maybe a dreamy partner would be in the picture, and maybe they'd move in together if things got serious. She thought she'd have her own modest-but-endearing apartment and a dog by now, at least.

Eight years of complacency had flown by instead.

Her lofty plans had fallen through. She got caught up trying to make ends meet, and got herself into a string of passionless long-term relationships, some out of absolute necessity. It was expensive to live on your own in Zuzu.

She hated her corporate job, working for Joja. Working a call center drained any will she had to see the light of another day. She coped by spending her evenings and weekends holed up in her room with a case of craft beer and skincare products she really couldn't afford, staying up until the wee hours, mindlessly streaming TV shows and playing video games until she passed out. She could hardly bring herself to call it "self-care" without laughing at how pathetic her life had become. 

She could not get past the feeling that she did not belong in Zuzu anymore. A hard reset would do her good.

She ruminated on this as the charter bus slowly rumbled to a halt at that familiar stop she saw every summer as a child. Outside, she recognized a sole figure patiently waiting by the _Welcome to Pelican Town!_ sign. Grandpa's old friend, Lewis.

He stood there, scanning the bus windows, hand held over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Their gazes met and he gave her a warm smile.

She weakly returned it.

Grabbing her bags from the overhead, she took a deep breath and mustered what little energy she could find within her.

 _You're turning a new leaf_ , she scolded herself, lugging her bags down the aisle. _Do it right this time._

She stood up a little straighter, picked up her stride, and braced herself as she rounded the aisle and saw Lewis extending a helping hand at the bottom of the boarding steps.

"So good to finally have you, Ms. Mila."

"Hey, Mayor Lewis!" she exclaimed, beaming at him. "Nice to see the welcoming committee."

 

 ---

 

Five days had passed, and Mila had not left the farm once.

Lewis and the town carpenter, Robin, were beyond gracious showing her what had become of Grandpa's farm. She figured that it was mostly out of pity. Even Robin, nice as she was, proclaimed it a "dump."

The olive green paint on the house was stripped and revealed fraying planks. The deck sagged, and the wood moaned under her steps. The soil had become packed, hard, and dry. Dried up vines and weeds snaked across the entire property.

She had spent her first week clearing brush and trees, breaking up rocks, and tilling soil. The process was so arduous, she found herself falling asleep in her homely "farming clothes" (old band shirts and gym leggings) at six or seven in the evening every night. She had, however, finished sowing the parsnip seeds that Lewis gave her. An unfamiliar pang of pride sparked somewhere within her. It felt good to work with her hands. It was a peace she had not ever experienced before.

With Friday morning upon her, she figured it was about time to finally head into town. She needed more coffee anyway.

She made her way past the bus stop, cobbled stone streets quickly coming into view. The morning mist hadn't burned off yet, and the air was cool. Dots of fuchsia thistles and yellow wildflowers caught her eye, and the scent of pine filtered the air. She was able to appreciate for a bit the verdant spring that she had arrived in. She really did miss visiting this town.

She came upon the town square, still quiet in the early morning. She could hear faint stirrings from the houses; muffled conversations, the clink of a coffee cup being set down on a table.

She strode towards the general store until movement appeared in her periphery, turning her head.

A man--or, more suitably, a _guy_ , rather--purposefully beelined across the square from the south side.

He didn't seem to notice her. She observed him for a moment. Oh man, could this guy _glower_. He wore a hoodie and hat in that familiar royal blue that she had been conditioned to viscerally, negatively react to. 

 _JojaMart uniform_ , she thought to herself, feeling a bit of pity for him. _Glad I never worked the retail side, at least_.

The guy seemed to finally realize someone was watching him. Without turning his head, his glance darted over and locked with Mila's for a split moment.

She was taken aback. From under the cap, dark eyes scanned her from under even darker brows.

She didn't know what to do.

She flashed him one of those awkward, tight-lipped, closed-mouth smiles in acknowledgement. Hell, it was practically a grimace.

His eyes moved back to his path and he kept walking, expression unchanged. Mila's face knitted into a contemptuous scowl as soon as his back was to her.

She couldn't help but audibly voice the offense she took.

"What the fuck?"

_Off to a great start!_

A tinkling bell roused her from trying to process what had just happened.

"Well, long time, no see, young lady!"

It was the general store owner, opening up for the day. He kicked a wedge under the heavy wooden door of the shop, the bell jingling above him. His name escaped her, but she remembered the bespectacled man from the summers of her youth. A bewildered and panicked smile set her face this time, and her eyes darted to the sign to his right. _Pierre's General Store._

"Hey! Good morning, Pierre!" Whew. Thank Yoba.

Pierre saw the shrinking figure beyond her, walking away from them and towards the rectangular, royal blue building in the distance. It stuck out like a sore thumb, set off to the side and away from the town square.

"Oh...don't mind him," he said, smiling idly and pocketing a ring of keys. "I'd be sour too, slaving away for Joja. Come on in! What can I do ya for?"

Mila entered the store and fondly regarded the local made goods before her.

Pierre ambled back around the register and leaned forward against it. "Goodness, I remember when you could barely see over the top of this counter. How old are you now, anyways?"

Mila, who had ambled down an aisle herself, backed up and poked her head around to address him.

"26! Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Pierre barked in surprised laughter. "26?! Yoba, I didn't know it's been that long. Maybe I should throw in the towel and retire already."

They exchanged niceties for a bit, Mila cradling bags of fragrant coffee, a bar of soap, and a glass bottle of cream in the crook of her arm. She cracked him up with a bland hyperbole about the dismal state of the farm. She didn't find it _that_ funny.

"Oh, come now, a little bit of TLC is all it needs: tender, loving, care," he said emphatically. "I'm sure you'll get a hang of it soon enough." He peered at her over his glasses and winked. "It's in your blood, y'know."

He beamed at her feeble smile and picked a handful of candies from a small basket at the register, placing them on the counter. They were the honey ones she always asked Grandpa for as a kid when they stopped in town for groceries.

"On the house!" he exclaimed.

Mila relaxed a bit. "Thanks, Pierre. That means a lot."

She paid for her wares and bid him farewell. As she left, more townsfolk were starting to congregate in the square.

"Well, _hiiii_ , there!" A pair of middle aged women brightened at her appearance.

As Mila made way to introduce herself, she recovered from the awkward encounter earlier in the morning.

_Fresh start. You're putting yourself out there. These are good, decent folk. They want to be your friend._

_Don't push them away._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning follows Shane's POV, the night before.

Thirsty Thursday had done Shane dirty yet again.

He didn't know what the point of calling it "Thirsty Thursday" was. He drank every night anyways. Giving it a name as if it were something to look forward to was sad, even by his own almost non-existent standards.

Regardless, he had stayed out later than usual that Thursday, lingering at the saloon. Their special that evening was half off sour beers. He quite liked the sour that Gus had proudly claimed to have brewed himself. Emily smiled a bit regretfully as he nudged his empty glass for the umpteenth time across the counter for her to fill up.

He hadn't said much to her that night besides the usual, noncommittal "Hey, how's it goin'?" when he perched himself on his usual corner stool. His eyes periodically drifted over to the sitcom rerun on the small TV over the bar as he shoved complimentary peanuts into his mouth. Across the bar, Pam roared with laughter at some lame commercial on the TV he missed.

While his tolerance for alcohol was high (to a point where it was incredibly uneconomical for him to get trashed off beer alone) he had bit off more than he could chew this night. Oh, Yoba. What was the ABV of this sour? How many had he knocked back at this point?

Several times, he caught himself teetering a little too far to the sides of his seat. Distantly, he remembered he hadn't eaten much that day. He also remembered he had work tomorrow. Fuck it.

It was only a matter of time before Emily noticed.

"I think you should head home now, Shane," she said stonily. She slid his tab and debit card towards him, her chipmunk smile all but dissipated. "Last call."

He swallowed a vinegary burp before grunting in reply. "Yeah. See you."

He shrugged his hoodie back on, fumbling to push his arm through his sleeve. He shuffled towards the door, the toe of his sneaker scuffing the floor and making him lose his balance slightly.

Emily and Gus exchanged uneasy glances.

Shane made his way home back to the ranch. He found himself bursting to piss along the way and had half a mind to water the flowers outside of Sam's house. The thought of Marnie angrily confronting him (because who else could have possibly done it?) crossed his mind. He groaned to himself.

He made it home. In his drunken stupor, he rummaged around for his keys in the pocket of his cargo shorts. He gingerly tried to slide the key in the lock in one go without scraping it up too badly. He was an asshole, but he wasn't trying to step on Marnie's toes _too_ much.

He padded as quietly as he could across the kitchen, bumped his door open, and threw himself unceremoniously into bed, fully clothed.

 

\---

 

In the morning, sobriety had washed over him. Kind of.

He made the mistake of turning over in his sleep. Eyes closed, the spins overtook him. It was that feeling you got after you spent your day fishing on the lake. He felt the waves of nonexistent water bobbing against his bed, the imaginary boat. His eyes flew open and he tried to steady his vision as the ceiling danced above him.

It was too much. He could feel the vinegar from last night's sours rising in his hot throat.

He abruptly grabbed the plastic trashcan at his bedside and barfed into it in the nick of time. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to see it was all bile. 

Oh, he was in for a world of pain today.

 _Not enough water_ , he thought. Of course he'd forgotten.

Breathing shaky, his arm dipped below the bedside again and found the case of bottled water beneath it. He wrenched one out, and reached for the bottle of ibuprofen on his nightstand. He struggled with the cap and shook four caplets into his palm. He knew he took too many of them, too often. His stomach lining was probably begging for mercy. He threw them back into his gullet and hungrily downed the bottle of water in seconds. He laid for a moment and felt the tight bands of muscle along his shoulder blades stiff and acting up again, making it painful to turn his head. Just great.

He was misery incarnate, as he struggled to prop himself upright in the shower. He caught a look of himself in the mirror through the glass shower door.

His cheeks were sallow, and he could see the beginnings of jowls coming in along the sides of his face. The bags under his eyes were dark today. Were those grays at his temples?

His eyes lowered and his gut seemed to protrude more than he last remembered. He had put on more weight, he thought grimly. He exhaled a heavy sigh.

He got dressed as quickly as he could. Grabbing his work cap, he patted his pockets to make sure his keys, phone, and wallet were all there, and gave Marnie and Jas, having breakfast in the kitchen, a half-assed goodbye.

"See you guys," he mumbled, absently ruffling the top of Jas' head. She scrunched up her nose in protest.

" _Uncle Shane_!" she huffed fussily, moving her hair back in place. " _Please_ don't mess up my bow!"

"Bye, honey," began Marnie. He slumped out the door and made his way to work before they could ask him any questions.

Life in the Valley had certainly flown by. The thought only crossed his mind on occasion. For the most part, he kept his nose to the grindstone. That is, he woke up, went to work, went to the saloon, drank himself stupid, and stumbled home.

He passed the hydrangea bushes in front of Sam's, that he thankfully had enough sense to not piss all over, in what his more drunken self probably would have considered a funny prank. He passed Emily and Haley's, and Emily's stony expression from the night before swam back into his memory. He wished he hadn't remembered. He seldom saw her with that look on her face.

He was almost to work when he spotted her.

He was almost surprised enough to exhibit a reaction. A complete stranger, she resembled absolutely nobody else in town. She was petite, had long black hair, and tan. He noted the trendy cut of her skinny jeans and boots made it obvious she wasn't from Pelican Town.

He could practically feel the disdain she projected his way. She had a look on her face that plainly stated, "Don't talk to me, you insect."

When their eyes met, she shot him one of those half-hearted, obligatory pity-smiles. He quickened his stride and moved past her.

He was badly hungover and in no mood for introductions. 

 _Y'know_ , a small voice in the back of his mind piped up, _she'd almost be pretty if that smile was real_.

 _It's a non-issue_ , replied his conscience. _Out of your league, anyway. Way out of your league._

He stepped through the automatic sliding doors of the JojaMart. The air conditioner blasted loudly above him.

Morris, from behind his computer at the membership counter, grinned at him loathsomely.

"Well, good morning, Shane! Let's get ready for another beautiful day."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of exposition to set the tone for our main characters, I promise the pacing will speed up!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay, life and obligations have been really stressful for me lately, but this fic is something I plan on seeing all the way through. Thanks! 
> 
> We meet some more townsfolk in this one, folks. Hope y'all like it uwu

Mila had done pretty well so far.

She was getting a hang of small talk. Maybe even starting to enjoy it.

Putting herself out there to socialize and co-mingle with the townsfolk was an active effort that she had to constantly encourage and bring herself to do. For the most part, the hardest part--introductions--was already taken care of. Grandpa's reputation preceded her, and most of the middle-aged and older folks remembered him fondly. She found herself inundated with questions whenever she headed into town; everyone wanted to know how she liked living in the Valley so far, how different it was compared to her old life in Zuzu City, and how her crops were coming along. 

On Wednesday morning, as she was lying about and mindlessly scrolling on her phone, a smart rapping at the door startled her. Still in her pajamas, she shrugged on her bathrobe and answered.

A plump woman with a kind face greeted her. She had auburn hair in a bushy plait tossed over her shoulder. A large black dog panted happily at her side. It was the rancher who lived south of the farm. She was friends with Grandpa, but Mila couldn't remember her name.

"Good morning, dear. I figured I'd come up and formally welcome my new neighbor! Do you remember me?"

Mila stammered. "Y-yeah! I remember seeing you every summer. I...how are your animals doing?"

The woman laughed. "It's okay, hon. I don't remember your name either. It's Marnie." She reached out her hand. Mila took it and noted how firm, but gentle, her grasp was.

"Mila," she said in response.

"That's right! I swear I had that tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind."

Mila eyed the dog and reached out a cautious fist for it to smell. The dog immediately lapped it with affection. She grinned.

"And who's this cutie?"

"That's just the thing. I don't know!" Marnie laughed again and Mila couldn't help but laugh with her. "I was coming out of my gate and saw him running around the Cindersap dock. Poor thing must be lost, but I don't see a collar. He must be a...lab mix? Bernese mountain dog, maybe? He definitely don't belong to anyone in town. Maybe I'll put up flyers on the bulletin board."

Mila bent down to scratch the dog's chest. His ears flattened as one of his legs thumped the ground in satisfaction. When she stopped, he nuzzled his head into her hand pleadingly for more.

"I'm in love," Mila crooned, scratching the top of his head in capitulation.

"Yes, you certainly are," said Marnie, casting a warm gaze at the two of them. She paused for a moment.

"Why don't you take him?"

Mila stopped and looked at her with intrigue.

"Do you like dogs? I don't mean to force him on you if you can't take him in, hon."

Mila jumped up. "No, I do! I mean, I can and I'd love to! I thought he was yours."

Marnie put a hand on her hip and smiled knowingly. "You gave that dog the same puppy eyes he gave you as soon as you opened that door. He just adores you already, can't you tell? You're a shy one, but I can see it, you're good with animals. "

"Oh my gosh, Marnie. I can't--thank you!" She massaged the back of the dog's neck. "Here I was thinking I was gonna be lonely on this big old farm by myself."

Marnie surveyed the farm slightly and a sly smile spread across her face.

"Speaking of which, I don't see any coops or fit barns left on this farm," she said. "Some farmer you are, without your farm animals!"

"Oh," said Mila, suddenly remembering. "Oh, Marnie. I've been so busy sowing seeds since I got here, chickens were next on my list. You still sell 'em, right?"

"Of course," said Marnie, beaming proudly. "You get Robin to put a coop together for you as soon as you can, and you come see me. My hens are real easy-going. And I'll show you all the ropes to make sure they're comfortable and laying every day."

The dog, hungry for more affection, suddenly jumped on his hind legs, placing two front paws against Mila and knocking her back a few steps in surprise. Marnie snapped her fingers curtly.

"Hey--down!"

He obliged sheepishly, and her expression softened again.

"You've got a good one on your hands, looks like he's already well-trained. What are you going to name him?"

Mila pondered for a moment. "Black dog...ace of spades...I'm gonna call him Lemmy."

Marnie chuckled.

 

\---

 

After Marnie left, Mila spent most of her morning getting Lemmy situated in his new home. She ran into town to pick up some dog food and fashioned a makeshift bed out of some old blankets she had tucked away in a linen closet. Once he seemed content in his surroundings, she decided to take the back road behind her farm to pay Robin a visit.

The house was at the foot of the mountains just north of town. It could have been any other residence, were it not for the intricately carved wooden plaque that said "CARPENTER" over the front door.

As Mila pushed open the door, Robin brightened at her arrival from behind a counter.

"About time! What were you looking for? Some furniture? Another well?"

"Hey, Robin," replied Mila. "A chicken coop. I think I'm ready for livestock."

"That's great! Alright, just tell me where on the property you want it. I'll be over tomorrow to get started."

They were interrupted as the front door opened behind Mila. She turned around and saw two boys saunter in. One was tall, lean, and clad in black, from head to toe. The other was shorter with a shock of blonde hair. They had small cardboard boxes under their arms, and plastic Joja bags of snacks and soda in hand. Mila squinted slightly and saw the boxes had _Solorian Chronicles_ logos on them. She felt herself bristle with excitement.

"Sebby!" Robin motioned to the boy in black. "Come say hi to the new farmer!"

"Hey!" exclaimed the blonde, an eager smile spreading across his face. He started towards them and the dark one trailed behind him.

"Mila, this is my son, Sebastian," said Robin, placing a hand on the dark one's shoulder. "And his friend, Sam."

"Nice to meet you," said Sebastian politely.

"This is exciting!" said Robin. "You probably want to talk to more people around your age, Mila. You're 26, right? Seb turned 24 this year."

Sebastian smiled uneasily at his mother volunteering his personal information.

Mila motioned at the boxes. "You guys running a _Solorion_ campaign? "

The boys exchanged surprised looks, Sam's mouth agape. "You play?"

Robin chuckled. "Careful, Mila! It's not everyday they meet a cute girl who likes their dorky hobbies."

"Consider me just as dorky," said Mila, forcing a grin and resisting the urge to say something rude to shut her down. "My friends and I ran campaigns pretty regularly back in Zuzu. Since middle school, honestly."

"Hell yeah, that's rad!" said Sam. His eyes sparkled, telling Mila that his enthusiasm was 100% genuine. "What class do you usually play?"

"Wizard, but I'll play healer on occasion. Usually when no one else wants to."

"We're about to start a round," said Sebastian. Mila noted that his voice was surprisingly deep. He spoke slowly and carefully, she thought. "Do you wanna sit in? We have another friend on the way, but she's our wizard in this campaign."

"Y'know? I'd actually love to. It's been a while." Mila surprised herself with how sure and fast her response was. She wasn't lying. She used to play tabletop RPGs with her friends all the time, before everyone got busy with growing up and adult obligations. This was the last thing she expected out of moving to the Valley, but it was beyond a pleasant surprise. "Y'know Robin, I think I swung by just at the right time."

"I'll leave you guys to it," said Robin. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Mila?"

"Bright and early."

 

\---

 

Mila joined the boys in the basement, which was converted into a bedroom for Sebastian. He had several bookcases of video games, comics, and movies lining the walls. They were adorned with collectibles and figurines. A couple of gutted PCs and an abused laptop lay strewn across a desk in the corner of the room. Mila noticed a pile of wires and cables tucked underneath the desk, and under them, some old gaming consoles.

Any anxiety that she would have normally felt around strangers had melted away; she was in her element. 

As they settled in at a wooden table with the Solorian dungeon map spread on it, she saw Sebastian out of the corner of her eye, quietly placing something made of glass behind his nightstand and out of view.

"Pay no attention to that," he said casually.

"That's a bong," she said starkly.

"Ah, shit. Looks like you're on to me."

Mila snorted. "I was joking, dude. I don't give a fuck."

Sam snickered.

The basement door opened, and Mila heard the sound of boots coming down the wooden steps.

"Heyyyy! Sorry I'm late." A girl with purple dyed hair appeared. She was out of breath. "Oh! You must be the new farmer," she said, addressing Mila. "My parents said they'd met you already. My dad's the guy who owns the general store. I'm Abigail."

"Hey, girl. Nice to meet you." Mila shook her hand.

"That's our wizard," said Sam. 

"Alright, let's get started," said Sebastian, a very slight edge of irritation in his voice. "We're way behind on this campaign. Mila, you wanna fill out some character sheets? I can maybe try to write you into this game."

Mila observed their game in between filling out her character sheets. The dynamic of the three brought a warmth to Mila's heart, and she started to feel proud of herself.

She was doing it. Not only was she socializing, but she was making friends!

She caught herself staring at Sebastian more than a handful of times. His hair might have been too perfectly coiffed for her taste, but he certainly was dreamy. A teenaged Mila would have fallen head over heels for him. He seemed slightly bored facilitating the game and holding his friends' hands through it when they needed it, but Mila could tell he was patient and took small pleasure in teasing them and making minute snide comments, too quick for them to catch. She felt the start of butterflies in her stomach.

"BRB, cancer time," said Sebastian suddenly. He rummaged through his plastic bag and pulled out of a pack of cigarettes. He started smacking the box against his palm, packing the cigarettes down. "Mila, do you smoke?"

"Huh? Nah, I'm good." A record scratched in her mind. She wasn't into smokers. She was even less into cancer jokes.

"Alright." He moseyed up the basement steps and disappeared.

"Hey," started Sam. "I'm really glad we got to hang today. Did not expect someone so cool to move into Pelican Town."

"Yeah," said Abigail. "It gets really boring around here. The villagers don't really look kindly at you if you don't share their normie hobbies." She sulked a bit. "My parents still think it's unladylike for me to play video games." 

"Well, there's four of us now!" said Sam, his fist balling with passion. "Better get over it."

Mila couldn't help but beam. She was one of them.

 

\---

What was supposed to be a quick trip to Robin's turned into Mila's entire day. It was almost seven in the evening when she realized what time it was.

"Oh, shit," she said under her breath, standing up abruptly. "I gotta get back to my dog, he's not used to the farm yet."

Sam groaned and stretched his arms back behind him. "Later, dawg," he said, mid-stretch. He reached out for a high five. Mila returned it.

"Byyyyyye!" sang Abigail.

"See you," said Sebastian, amicably. 'Hey--come out and play pool with us at the saloon on Friday. We go every week."

"I'll see you guys then," she said with a smirk, before bounding up the stairs.

As she stepped back outside, her stomach grumbled pathetically. She hadn't eaten all day.

 _Too hungry to cook_ , she thought to herself. _Takeout it is._

She headed south towards town instead. Abigail's mom, Caroline, had mentioned to her that Gus, the saloon's owner, offered takeout for those lazy nights when you just couldn't bring yourself to prepare dinner.

As she trudged through town, the day played over and over again in her head. She felt incredibly grateful for how truly nice and generous the people of Pelican Town had been to her so far. 

_All you had to do was put yourself out there._

She arrived at the saloon and swung the door open. She was greeted by Gus wiping a glass down at the bar.

"Well, if it isn't our new farmer!" he boomed. "Have a seat, what can I get you?"

"Oh, I'm just here for takeout, Gus," replied Mila. "What's the special tonight?"

"How's a heaping mound of spaghetti sound?"

"Terrific. I love me a good spaghetti."

"Splendid! It's in a crock pot in the kitchen, let me get it ready for you." He bustled away.

It was a quiet night for the saloon. Mila looked to her left and saw Pam, a gruff and coarse older lady she had spoken to a few times prior. She was rough around the edges, but friendly enough to Mila.

"Hey, Miss Pam," she said with a gentle smile.

Pam lazily lifted her head to acknowledge her. She said nothing and went back to morosely staring at the surface of her beer before taking a gulp of it.

A small panic started to set in Mila.

_Was she having a bad night? Did I say something wrong?_

Her eyes flitted over and she saw _him_ sitting on the far opposite end of the bar, by the fireplace.

It was the guy who worked at the JojaMart. He didn't seem much more excited to see her. 

He at least appeared to be sitting upright and was semi-conscious. Pam was  borderline comatose. Mila settled on a seat closer to his side, but maintained a distance of a few stools between them.

She pulled out her phone and began to aimlessly scroll through some of her social media feeds, not really paying attention to them. The vibe was downright depressing in the saloon and she couldn't take it. She looked up at the guy.

He was _cute_. He looked to be a few years older than her, and she appreciated his stubble, dark hair, and how he was a little on the stocky side. Her stomach flipped again. She cursed her stupid monkey brain and the primal urges it incurred when she saw a semi-attractive guy. It was only natural she'd be as thirsty as she was since she was new in town. She almost forgot about their awkward "encounter" from the week before.

She watched as he lifted a tall boy of beer to his lips. She recognized the label.

"Oh. That's Stone Dagger!"

He froze and looked at her.

"That's a great beer. Their brewery was right around the corner from my place in Zuzu."

"Yeah," he said. "It's good."

"Have you ever been? The food is really deli--"

"I hardly know you. Why are you talking to me?"

Mila was gobsmacked. "...I'm sorry?"

"You're bothering me," he said curtly. "I want to be alone."

Mila short-circuited. Her mind reeled like a Rolodex as she tried to find the words to reply. 

Gus wheeled back in from the kitchen with a styrofoam container in hand, just in the nick of time.

"Piping hot!" he declared. "Threw in some little containers of parmesan and parsley for you as well. That'll be 240g, my dear."

Mila stuffed a hand down her pocket and conjured a few bills.

"Here--y'know what, Gus?" said Mila, unable to conceal the edge in her voice. "Get a round of beers for these two. On me."

"You're the boss!" exclaimed Gus, chuckling and oblivious to Mila's tone and what had just transpired.

Pam mustered a weak and broken smile. "Thanks, kid," she said softly.

Mila shot a dagger-eyed glare at the rude dick in the corner as Gus filled a mug from the tap. As Gus placed the frothy, cold glass in front of him, he still said nothing. He looked back at Mila.

"Enjoy," said Mila coldly.

She grabbed her food, strode out the door, and headed home.

She seethed the entire way.

This is what she got for putting herself out there.

She'd had a few good encounters and got overzealous trying to make friends with everyone. Moving to the countryside wasn't going to save her from meeting assholes.

But still, what the fuck was his problem?

She made it to the farm. As she came through the front door, Lemmy awoke from his blanket pile and cheerfully trotted over to her and the scent of spaghetti wafting from the container.

Mila faltered a bit.

She had a lot to be thankful for.

She wasn't going to let one bad egg sour that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get better at organizing and editing. TBH i was just kinda writing as I went along, up until this chapter. I read this one so much, it's practically gibberish to me now. So hopefully you enjoy!

Friday morning was here. Mila awoke to the sound of Robin’s sander whirring outside her window.

She started a pot of coffee before washing up and getting dressed. When she finished, she walked out to check on the progress, two mugs of hot coffee in hand.

Robin saw her approach, turning off the sander and raising her protective goggles.

“Good morning!” she exclaimed, as Mila handed her a mug. “Thanks.” She motioned at the almost-finished coop, beaming at her handiwork. “Should be done with it by noon. Well? Are you excited?”

“Absolutely,” replied Mila, grinning. “Thanks again, Robin.”

“Marnie will be happy, I’m sure. You let her know yet?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll probably swing by the ranch today once I’m done checking the crops.”

 

\---

 

Mila was starting to see the fruits of her labor.

She had patiently tended her crops, letting small flowers transform into green beans, and resisted the urge to prematurely uproot her tubers to see their progress.

After she anxiously bought an exorbitant amount of seeds from Pierre (afraid that most of them would die, rot, or get ravaged by pests before she could harvest them), she now had an excess of parsnips. Before heading to Marnie’s, she bagged a few to bring as a gift.

The ranch was adjacent to the farm, just south of it, a narrow dirt footpath connecting the two properties. Rounding the path, Mila was delighted to see the quaint ranch and a pen full of plump cows and their calves, lazily chewing cud and contentedly basking in the spring sunshine.

A small girl stood on a hay bale next to the pen, babbling to the animals and allowing a cow to come up and lick her hand. She was dolled up in a lavender dress, a bow in her pigtailed hair. Mila enjoyed the adorable scene, until the rustling of her plastic bag of parsnips caught the girl’s attention.

She turned at the noise, and upon seeing a stranger, froze shyly.

“Hey there,” said Mila, raising her voice to a friendly tone. The little girl looked at her bashfully before hopping off the bale and scurrying through the open front door of the ranch.

“Jas? What’s wrong?” Mila recognized Marnie’s voice from inside.

“Aunt Marnie, there’s a lady here,” said a small voice.

Mila walked up the path and knocked on the open doorway. Marnie was behind a counter, fussing over the girl, only the top of her head and bow visible over the countertop.

“Hi, Marnie,” she called.

“ _Ohhh_ , it’s our new neighbor!” Marnie squealed excitedly. “Jas, where are your manners? Come introduce yourself to Miss Mila. Come on in, hon! Sorry about her, she’s just shy around new folk.”

Marnie struggled around the counter, the little girl glued to the back of her leg, clutching at her long skirt.

“ _Jas_!”

“Aww, it's okay,” said Mila, trying her best to smile and seem approachable. “I was the same way too, as a kid.” She held up the bag of parsnips. “These have been growing like crazy, so...for you, Marnie.”

“Oh, Jas, look! Parsnips!”

Jas wrinkled her nose, peeking around Marnie.

“What has parssips in it?”

“Oh, you can make all sorts of yummy things,” said Marnie, inspecting the produce through the bag. “Soup, stew, tagine, roast ‘em, scallop ‘em like potatoes…”

Jas smiled sheepishly from behind the skirt. “Pink cake?”

The women burst into cackles of laughter.

“You’re my kinda lady, Jas,” said Mila. “Y'know, I used to bake all the time. Since you’re my new friend, maybe I'll bring a pink cake for you this weekend.”

The little girl brightened.

“You'd like that?”

“Yeah,” Jas replied, stifling a pleased giggle.

“Jas, say ‘thank you!’” commanded Marnie. Mila heard a tiny ‘ _thank_ _you_!’ through the folds of fabric.

“Alright, hon,” Marnie continued. “Down to business. Is that coop done yet?”

“Yep,” said Mila. “Robin should be wrapped up today.”

“Wonderful. I’ll set you up with two of my best layers, put aside enough feed for you, and come by to make sure they’re happy and comfy in their new home.”

Jas emerged from behind the skirt again.

“Aunt Marnie, can we have pink cake for Uncle Shane's birthday?”

“Sweetheart, I'm old, please speak louder.”

“Can we use the cake for Uncle Shane’s birthday?” Jas repeated with a grin, peering at Mila.

“Oh, aren't you _precious_ ,” chuckled Marnie. “That's tomorrow, isn't it?” She looked apologetically at Mila. “I’m sorry hon, she’s just excited. Jas, you’re asking for too much! Why don’t you go outside and play for a while? I’ll head to the city tomorrow and pick a cake up for him if anything.”

“I really don’t mind, Marnie,” said Mila, as Jas happily obliged and skipped back outside. “I swear, I haven’t put that stove to good use since I moved here. I used to love cooking and baking back in my old apartment.” She smirked as she spotted Jas through the door, dragging a jump rope through the grass. “She is just too  _cute_. I’d do anything she’d ask me to.”

Marnie glowed at her, shaking her head.

“Goodness, you don’t even think twice about being generous. I’ve heard you’ve been handing out gifts left and right in town. You really are your granddaddy’s. He was just as sweet as you are.”

Mila felt a tug at her heartstrings. “That means a ton. Really.”

She took in the homey interior of the ranch for a bit. The foyer floor was tiled with black and white checkers, and all the furniture was made of heavy cherry wood. The walls were lined with old family photos, and some newer ones of Jas. Marnie seemed to be a purveyor of collector’s plates and porcelain figurines, all depicting farm animals. She had some cases on display of tarnished silverware, probably family heirlooms. It was all very charming.

“I didn’t know you were married, Marnie,” she said, admiring a large, old photo on the wall of Marnie in her girlhood, dressed in equestrian garb and grinning toothily, holding up a collection of ribbons next to an impressive horse. She glanced at a wooden gridball plaque next to it, the top photo depicting a high school varsity team, and underneath it, an individual shot of a dark-haired teenage boy in his uniform, kneeling next to his helmet and mean-mugging the camera intensely. He looked awfully familiar.

“ _What_?!” blurted out Marnie, baffled.

Mila tore her eyes away from the photos and felt her cheeks redden. Her palms started sweating immediately in embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry...didn’t Jas say ‘Uncle Shane’?”

“Oh my _stars_ , honey. You scared the daylights out of me!” said Marnie, laughing in relief. “No, no, I’m single as ever. She’s talking about _her_ uncle. My nephew, Shane.”

Her smile faded slightly and her voice lowered.

“Well, maybe I should just tell you now, now that you live here and whatnot. He’s actually her godfather. He took her in after her parents passed away.”

“Oh my _gosh_ , Marnie,” said Mila, stunned. “She’s just a baby!” Her heart broke for the little girl.

“You didn’t hear it from me, thought I’d tell you before it came up in a more uncomfortable situation,” said Marnie, raising her hands and relieving herself of culpability. “Well, they live with me now, and she gets a real childhood here in Pelican Town. She can play in the forest with her little friend, be around animals, and, Mila--she’s _so_ bright. Penny, her tutor, tries her hardest to make sure she keeps up with the curriculum they’ve got in the state schools. Shane couldn’t give her that kind of life in Zuzu City.”

She seemed to lose herself in thought a little.

“Have you met him yet? I suppose not, considering. He’s about your age, maybe a little older, I think?” Her eyes narrowed, hoping she was jogging Mila’s memory. “Works at the JojaMart?”

_Works at the JojaMart._

Mila’s stomach sank when she put two and two together.

_You’re bothering me._

_I want to be alone._

Her eyes whipped back to the gridball plaque.

It was him, alright.

 _Shane Bandelin, All State Defensive Line, Zuzu City High School._ Fifteen years and forty pounds ago, probably.

Marnie’s eyebrows knitted slightly and Mila could detect a hint of melancholy in her face.

“You can catch him at the saloon most nights. Poor thing breaks his back at work everyday and goes there after to unwind.”

“Dark hair?” Mila asked flatly. “Sits in a corner by the fireplace?”

“Ooh yes, that’s my Shane, alright,” said Marnie.

“Oh.” She tried to speak lightly. “I’ve seen him around.”

How Marnie could have been related to him and how he could be in charge of taking care of a little girl was beyond her. At least now she could put a name to a face.

“As a boy, he used to stay with me every summer, just like you with your granddaddy,” Marnie continued. “He’s like my son in his own right. Him and Jas are both quite shy, actually, but they’ve been through a lot.” She gazed at Mila warmly. “He likes to keep to himself, but he’s actually real sweet. Say hi if you ever get a chance.”

Mila gave her that awkward, tight-lipped smile. “I will.”

“And you really don’t have to make that cake! I was planning on getting him something from the bakery anyway. Yoba knows Jas doesn’t need all that sugar.”

“No, Marnie, save yourself the trip, I insist,” Mila rebuffed. “I just wanna make a little girl happy.”

Marnie beamed, but her lip started to quiver. She suddenly pulled Mila into a hug, letting out a single, loud sniff.

Startled at first, Mila allowed herself to relax and hug her back.

 

\---

 

Mila trudged back to the farm, an invoice for the chickens in hand. Marnie’s story replayed in her mind over and over.

_“He and Jas are both quite shy--_

_They’ve been through a lot--_

_He likes to keep to himself--”_

After the incident at the saloon Wednesday night, Mila had been ready to put on her meanest passive-aggressive front. She had seen him across town a few times on his way to the saloon, and each time, she stewed, relishing the idea of being twice as bitchy to him as he was to her, wondering when their next encounter would be. She thought of the things she should have said in response to embarrass him at the saloon.

Before today, she had been ready to say, “Whatever, fuck it and fuck _him_.”

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

_Shane._

The way Marnie described him really got to her. In the city, her friends used to say similar words about her. Acquaintances found her standoffish and serious. In reality, strangers made her so nervous, she couldn’t find the will to speak to them.

Maybe he was more like her than she thought.

Wait. Was she really trying to justify a silly schoolgirl crush?

Once she got home, she remembered Sebastian’s words, inviting her to play pool at the saloon. She thought of Shane sitting in his corner, drinking alone.

She took a shower, carefully selected her makeup and clothes, and headed into town.

 

\---

 

It was 5:00 PM. Mila came into a mostly empty saloon. As the door swung shut behind her, a mop of blue hair popped up from behind the counter, growlers in hand.

It was Emily, the bartender. Mila had become friends of sorts with her, after frequently running into her in town. She was incredibly sweet and energetic, and Mila enjoyed her company immensely.

“Hey, Farmer!” she exclaimed, happy to see Mila. “You look so _pretty_ today!”

“Hey, Em. Thank you, thank you.” Mila looked around. “Have you seen Sam, Sebastian, or Abby?”

“Just down that way.” Emily nodded her head to her left. “Want a beer? What can I get ya?”

“Stone Dagger’s cool.”

Emily guffawed. “‘ _Stone Dagger’s cool_ ,’” she repeated, her voice lowering and mocking Mila’s deadpan timbre. “Can’t take the city from a girl.”

Mila wasn’t offended. She appreciated people like Emily. Her energy was infectious, she was peppy and bright, but she was also genuinely kind. Mila was in a better mood just talking to her.

A glass of fizzing amber clinked down in front of her.

“Bottoms up!”

“Thanks, Em.” Mila took her beer and entered the pool room.

Sebastian and Sam were already playing. Abigail lounged on a couch, concentrating on some sort of mobile game on her phone.

“Ayyyy!” Sam hooted at Mila’s approach.

“Hey, Mila,” Abigail murmured, tapping her screen furiously.

“You came just at the right time…” Sebastian was steadying his pool cue, one eye cinched shut. “I’m destroying Sam right now.”

There were just four solid balls left on the billiard table, and nearly double that of stripes.

“Can you guess who’s stripes?” Sam pouted glumly.

Mila wrinkled her nose and gave him an encouraging grin from over her beer glass. She settled into the doorway, leaning against the wall to watch them play.

She had been hanging out for about an hour when she heard the door of the saloon swing open behind her. Emily shouted another cheery “Hey!” in greeting.

There was no response. Just the scrape of a barstool being pulled out and the clatter of keys and a phone being placed on the counter.

It could only be him.

Mila resisted the temptation to turn around and gawk. She nervously shimmied and tugged her high-waisted jeans into a more flattering position and tried to casually fluff her hair.

She sighed.

_This is so stupid._

All week, she had beat herself up for thinking he was cute, especially when their first run-in should have been indicative of things to come. She always had a problem with being attracted to ones who ended up treating her like shit. Did she have a chip on her shoulder or something? What did she have to prove to these assholes?

It had hardly been a month since she moved to Pelican Town and she was already hung up on some guy who wouldn’t give her the time of day. Wasn’t this some bad movie trope?

There were plenty of other viable candidates in town. Sam may have been a little immature for her tastes, but he was thoroughly a sweetheart and would probably make a great boyfriend. She thought the town doctor was kinda cute. Who knows, maybe that flowery writer who lived on the beach had the juice to sweep even _her_ off her feet. They, and all the other bachelors she’d met in town, showed some sort of interest in her, romantic or platonic, she didn’t know or care--in the least, they had all been cordial.

All of them but Shane.

No. She wanted _this_ one.

“Hey.”

Mila snapped out of her thoughts. Sebastian had taken a few steps towards her.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Her grin was manic. He seemed to recoil ever so slightly.

“I am, I promise,” she reassured him. “Just stressed thinking about what to plant next. Summer’s almost here and I don’t want to sow any more spring crops in case it gets hot, but I can’t start on summer crops yet, y’know? Gotta get ahead of the curve.” It was a more verbose excuse than she would have liked.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Sebastian said, his expression unchanging. “Don’t remind me. I’ll be in my room where it’s air conditioned.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his hoodie. “But yeah. It sounds like a lot of work. I’m in awe of you, to be honest. You must be getting in pretty serious shape.” He flipped the lid of the pack. “Meanwhile, I sit in a basement and get carpal tunnel while looking at a screen all day. Want a stoge?”

“Do you always offer?” Mila laughed, smiling politely. “I’m good, I promise.”

“Alright.” He went outside.

As she watched him, her eyes, magnetized, drew to the corner with the fireplace.

There was Shane, back turned to her, hunched over the counter on his stool.

She noticed how broad his shoulders looked under his raggedy JojaMart hoodie.

Her heart gently pounded.

She was going to talk to him. Maybe even buy him a beer.

“I’ll be back,” she said to Sam and Abigail, eyes locked onto her target. “Restroom.”

The bar had filled with townsfolk since she arrived. Robin and her husband, Demetrius, were blowing off some steam and dancing to the jukebox. Emily was entertaining Leah and Willie, topping off their glasses. Mila couldn’t decide if it was better or worse this way. Either it was too busy for them to notice her at all, or half the village would witness her failure firsthand.

She stopped at the bar first, not too close to Shane, but made sure that she’d be in his view.

“Hey, Em. Can I get another?” She tapped her empty beer.

“Yeah!”

Mila forced herself to nonchalantly look at her phone this time. She tossed her hair coolly. She strained her periphery to see if he was looking. She was pretty sure he was.

“Here you go, Mila.” Emily had returned with her filled glass. “On your tab?”

“Yes! Thanks, girl.”

She seized the glass and hurried into the restroom to give herself a quick appraisal.

She closed the door behind her, huffing a deep breath to calm herself and turned to the mirror. She threw her bag onto the sink and rummaged through it until she found her makeup bag. She fluffed and tousled soft waves into her black hair, touched up the mauve lipstick, blushed rosiness onto her cheeks, and made a final swipe of bergamot rollerball perfume onto her neck. She chugged half her drink in an instant. She needed something to take the edge off, the anxiety that was taking years off her life, exacerbated now by a guy who told her, quite plainly and to her face, that she had been bothering him. At least she’d feel cute if things went badly.

When she reemerged, she stood up a little taller, tried to carry herself a little more sumptuously.

“Hi, hon!”

Mila stopped in her tracks.

Marnie waved at her eagerly from a table with Mayor Lewis. Her heart sank to the depths of her being.

No. Now it was weird.

“Long time, no see, huh?” Marnie laughed heartily.

“Y-yeah!” said Mila. Whatever confidence she had tried to gas herself up with in the restroom had deflated. She definitely wasn’t going to try to talk to him with his aunt in the building. “Ha, ha!”

She scurried back to the pool room, defeated before she even tried.

Sebastian had returned. The three friends were crowded around the _Prairie King_ cabinet, Sam and Abigail at the controls.

“ _Oh_ , shit! _Sam_! I swear to Yoba,” cried Abigail as Sam’s character blipped out and regenerated, a single life left.

“Relax, I don’t play this all day like you do!” Sam was tonguing his cheek in concentration. “Besides, I brought the coin today.”

Mila saw a single coin on the top of the controller panel. A long piece of floss was tied around it. She almost was feeling well enough to laugh. She sighed quietly.

“Hey,” she started nervously. “So...what the fuck is up with that guy Shane?”

“What about him?” Abigail’s eyes didn’t leave the screen when she spoke.

“Was he a dick to you or something?” asked Sam.

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Mila settled next to Sebastian, leaned against the cabinet and looking at his phone. “I ran into him in town and it was really weird, I thought maybe he was having a bad day or something. Then, he straight up told me to ‘fuck off’ when I was here the other night, more or less.” She felt sneaky, reconning this way.

“Mila.” Sebastian suddenly looked up from his phone. “Don’t worry about it.”

“He’s like that to everyone,” said Abigail. “Ever since he moved here. He told me to ‘eat shit’ once because he didn’t like that I was making too much noise in the Cindersap one night by the ranch.”

“What time were you out there?” asked Sam.

“...2:00 AM.”

“Did that upset you?” Sebastian interrupted, still looking at Mila intently. “Honestly, you better get used to it. He's been a miserable dick since day one. Aren’t you used to rude people from living in Zuzu?”

“Like...yeah? Just caught me off guard because this is such a small town and it doesn’t make sense to be rude to people you’re gonna be around all day, everyday.”

“So it did upset you.” Sebastian spoke earnestly. It made Mila uncomfortable. “ I'm surprised. You know, I like my space, but I’d never treat people the way he does. People only act like that when they’re unhappy with their lives. He’s just washed up and bitter. Don’t waste your time sweating over what he thinks of you.”

He said it like it was the end of the conversation.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Mila finished the other half of her beer in a single gulp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isnt a PlayerxSeb fic i swear lmoaaaa


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all. This one has alternating POV, so I apologize if it's a little confusing or if some verbiage is repetitive.  
> I have a hard time with over-explaining or detailing stuff about Pelican Town or the villagers, but I figure all of us are diehards and have played SDV at least a couple of times over at this point, so there's really no need to be like, "HALEY, WHO IS EMILY'S BLONDE SISTER ALSO LIVES IN THE HOUSE..."  
> Like...is it bad writing to omit that stuff? Or is it worse to lay out every relationship and physical detail? I know I've mentioned characters like Willie, Leah, Harvey, Elliot, etc. pretty passingly and to a complete newbie, I'm sure it's confusing as hell. I figure it's okay since it's just a fanfic, and again, we all know that stuff already...? Anyway...
> 
> This chapter starts with Shane's POV of the day from the previous chapter. Enjoy!

Shane’s back was acting up today.

Last night’s drinking didn’t help. He remembered Harvey telling him that dehydration was going to aggravate the discomfort of his back injury, and he needed to either drink more water or cut down on the booze. Shane had almost laughed in his face.

He took a boiling hot shower that morning, letting the heat of the water loosen the tight knots along his shoulder blade. Relief was only temporary. Stocking at JojaMart was going to keep his body in a perpetual state of agony.

He had a hard time putting on a passable front when he came out to Marnie and Jas in the kitchen.

“Bye.” He ran his fingers through his hair before shoving his cap on over it.

“Oh, _hon_ ,” said Marnie, getting an eyeful of him. “You don’t want a cup of coffee before you go? You look so _tired_. Come sit with us, you have the time, don’t you? Jas made some wonderful crafts with Miss Penny yesterday. Don’t you wanna see?”

“Can’t. Been tardy five times this month already.”

“ _Shane_.”

He glanced at them. Marnie looked cross now, but his gut sank when he saw Jas looked more habitually disappointed than anything. Now that she was getting older, she was starting to look more and more like her father when she made that face.

He had to water his shitty mood down, at least a little bit, for her. He softened his tone.

“Show me tomorrow, kid.” He came around, knelt next to her chair, and extended an arm for a hug.

She hugged him back tightly, her face burrowed into his chest.

“I can’t wait to see ‘em,” he said, his heart aching now. “But right now, I gotta go, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, voice muffled.

He kissed the top of her head before continuing out the door.

 

\---

 

5 o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Shane spent the morning moving leftover inventory to the clearance section. Nothing particularly heavy, but the constant bending and stooping was starting to make his back sear.

At noon, Sam clocked in. Shane was almost glad to see him. He could take over his storefront duties now.

“What’s goin’ on, dude?” said Sam as Shane approached him.

“Headed to lunch. I’ll be in the back for the rest of the day. Got a shipment to unload.” He decided he’d try his best to hide until the day was over.

Evidently, he had not tried hard enough. He was about to clock out at a terminal for lunch, when Morris descended on him like a vulture on carrion.

“Hello, Shane,” he simpered. He had really sinister way of speaking, that was both smooth and jaunty at the same time. It made Shane’s skin crawl.

“What’s up, Morris.”

“I’ve just received news from corporate. We’ve been issued a food safety recall on the jellied tomatoes. You’re going to have to bring them back here as fast as possible.”

Shane, looking Morris straight in the eyes, proceeded to punch his employee number into the terminal and hit the ‘LUNCH’ button, unflinching.

“It’s 12:15. Sam’s here now. Why don’t you get him to do it?”  _Or, better yet, do it your-fucking-self, if you give that much of a shit,_ he thought.

“Shane, it’s Friday,” said Morris, with a nauseating smile. He talked to Shane the way he did with customers when he was justifying extraneous membership fees. “It’s our busiest day! A rush could come in, and we’d need Sam to get on the register at that point.”

“Then put up a sign or something.”

“Now, that just won’t do. You know our members may still manage to buy one on accident. Someone could get sick!”

“I’m entitled to my half hour.”

“Of course you are. But right now, this is of utmost importance. You _know_ you’re on captured lunch. That means we--the _team_ \--need you on call, essentially.”

Shane was tired of arguing. _Jellied tomatoes_? Who the _fuck_ was buying jellied tomatoes? They _deserved_ to die of botulism as far as he was concerned. He hoped their families would file a class action lawsuit and sue Joja into nonexistence.

Morris had slowly eroded his will over the last three years. He’d already been written up for insubordination not even a year ago.

He thought of Jas.

He sighed. His hands were tied.

Morris looked at him expectantly.

Shane said nothing, grabbed a platform cart, and dragged it with him to the floor.

“Thank you, Shane!” Morris called from behind him.

 

\---

Shane didn’t get his half hour. Just as Morris had predicted, the Friday rush came just as he was moving the last boxes of recalled product.

He was starving when it was time for his final ten minute break of the day. He skulked to the breakroom to nuke a frozen Joja burrito. After two minutes, it was still miraculously cold in the middle. He didn’t care anymore. He quietly scarfed it down and absently read the “ _If You See Something, Say Something--Help Joja Bust Union Organizing!_ ” sign on the wall.

When five o'clock came around, he was hungry, his back hurt, and he wanted to raze the whole damn store to the ground.

He rubbed his face exhaustedly as he stepped out into the early evening. It was nigh time to hit the saloon.

He pulled off his cap and ruffled his matted hair before stepping inside.

Emily was manning the bar. She smiled widely at his entry.

“Hey!”

He couldn’t bring himself to reply.

He slumped over to his seat, letting out a sigh as he sat down. He rested his elbows on the counter, arms crossed and head bowed over them.

“Cheapest draft you’ve got, Em.”

She smiled ruefully at him and obliged, filling a glass at the tap and placing it on a little napkin in front of him.

He knocked it back in four gulps. Sub fifteen seconds. He supposed he should have been a little impressed with himself. He placed the glass back at the inner edge of the counter, Emily nodding at him and knowing it was time for another.

He was three beers deep when the new farmer girl sat haughtily at the counter.

She didn’t try and talk to him this time. In fact, she either didn’t notice him, or flat out ignored him.

Good. She was getting with the program.

Shane, taking another draft of his beer and feeling a buzz start to set in, had to admit she was pretty damn fine.

She was dolled up for a Friday. Her blouse was silky and low-cut enough for him to notice the saloon lights gleaming softly off her clavicle and small bust. She wore winged eyeliner, something he always thought was cute on a girl. When she tossed her mane of hair, he caught a whiff of perfume--something not too sweet, with a little bit of musk to it. The way she put herself together made everyone else in town seem a little dated. Zuzu girls had a reputation for their looks. It was something he had somewhat missed about living there.

Not that he had much luck with them back then anyway.

Her eyes were glued to her phone. Typical.

She was waiting for a beer. Shane noticed Emily refilling her glass with Stone Dagger. When it was placed back on the counter, she whisked away with it into the restroom immediately after.

He grunted dismissively to himself.

 

—-

 

Shane had expected to sleep in.

He was a little hungover, but it was Saturday, _thank Yoba_. He could be as useless as he wanted.

As useless as he felt.

He was gonna kill a six pack of IPAs today and go in on some video games.

He had stirred awake, the sky still dim outside. He shifted to look at his alarm clock.

7:03 AM.

He turned back to sleep.

Just as he had started to drift off, There was a soft rap at the door.

“Yeah?” he answered, rather shortly.

“Shane.” Marnie’s voice floated through the door. “Jas has something important to show you. Please get up.”

“...”

“Shane?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck.

He rummaged around his bed and found a balled-up, wrinkly t-shirt. He wrestled it on over his head before pulling himself up to get the door.

He opened it to Marnie, who was holding a plate of steak and fried eggs, and Jas. The eggs were arranged with a sloppy line of hot sauce to look like a smiley face, and a single lit candle was jammed in the steak.

“ _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you_ ,” they sang.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Sha-ane!” giggled Jas.

“ _Happy birthday to you_!”

“Oh...guys…” He wasn’t awake enough to be ambushed like this. “Thanks.”

“Make a wish, please!” demanded Jas.

Shane blew out the candle in a single huff.

“You didn’t make a wish!”

“Sure I did.”

Jas made a face. “You don’t seem very excited!”

“To be honest, I forgot it was my birthday.”

“Aunt Marnie said you’re 32. Did you forget because you’re old?” Jas smiled at him brightly and Marnie turned her snicker into a cough.

“You might be on to something.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, your food’s gettin’ cold!” Marnie motioned him out of his room. “Come, come! Have breakfast with us!”

He sighed exasperatedly and followed them to the kitchen.

As he sat down at the table, Jas conjured a construction paper card and placed it next to his plate. It was decorated with foil stickers of animals and gridballs, felt pom-poms, and Jas’ own drawings.

“FOR YOU”, it read in her developing scrawl. “Happy Birthday, Uncle Shane!” was written underneath in Marnie’s recognizable, scrolling cursive.

“Aw, kid,” he said, opening the card to a scented marker drawing of a chicken. “This is fantastic.”

“That one’s Charlie,” said Jas matter-of-factly, pointing at the chicken.

“Looks just like her.” Shane scratched his head thoughtfully. “Hey. Where are those crafts you wanted to show me?”

Jas brightened. She bounded to her room to get them. Marnie smiled at him appreciatively.

They ate their breakfast together, laughing and talking. Shane, for a moment, was able to forget everything else for a bit and enjoy their time together.

 

—-

 

Mila ruminated on Sebastian’s words all night.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, she had a gut feeling, a hope, that she just needed to get to know Shane better to see that side of him that Marnie had spoken so fondly about.

A side that she had admittedly been building up in her mind.

She decided she’d try one last and final time to try and talk to him before letting it go for good.

She got up early that day to finish her farm work and chores before starting on the cake. Her baking was a little rusty, and she was a bit impatient. It ended up looking a little smooshed, but it tasted great. She couldn’t find candy hearts at Pierre’s, so she dotted them on with frosting instead.

She carefully wrapped tin foil over her creation and walked it over to Marnie’s.

When she knocked on the door, it was Jas who answered. A smile spread slow and wide across her little face when she saw what was in Mila’s hands.

“Hi, friend,” said Mila amiably.

“You _brought_ it!” she squealed happily.

“Told you I would!” Mila peeked eagerly around the door to see if anyone else was home.

Marnie bustled in from another room.

“ _Ooh_ , what did I tell you?” she asked with a big grin. “You didn’t have to go through all that!” Marnie took the cake from her and set it on the kitchen table, pulling back the foil. Jas gasped excitedly.

“Birthday boy’s not around?” asked Mila casually.

“You just missed him, hon, he head out to Pierre’s. I was trying my best to keep him around a little bit longer until you got here, but I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come home to this.”

“Aww,” said Mila, trying not to look as disappointed as she felt. “So...did you guys plan anything for him?”

“Aunt Marnie made breakfast,” said Jas. “And we played with the animals.”

“He don’t ask for much for his birthday, hon. ‘It’s just another day,’ he says. ‘You don’t need to plan anything’, ‘don’t get me anything.’” Marnie went to a drawer at the counter and pulled out some birthday candles. “I’m sure a cake from a pretty girl will be quite the surprise.” She gave Mila a small wink. Mila tried to think nothing of it.

They bantered for a while, but still, no Shane. Jas was gradually pulling craft after craft out of her room to shyly show Mila as she talked with Marnie.

“I think you’ve made yourself a new best friend,” laughed Marnie.

Mila inspected a collage of flowers made from construction and tissue paper. “I love it, Jas! Very contemporary.”

“Contem-prairie,” the little girl repeated carefully.

“Not bad,” said Mila.

Mila couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. At the end of the day, the cake was mostly for Jas, but she had banked so much hope on running into Shane again at the ranch.

“I think I’ll head back home for now,” she said finally. “Bye, ladies.”

“Take care, dear! Thank you again. Jas, say ‘thank you’ for the cake!”

“Thank you for the pink cake!”

Heading back up the footpath, Mila thought of the saloon. She’d make one final stop before calling it a day.

 

—-

 

Shane left the ranch in the afternoon to peruse the beer selection at Pierre's. It was slim pickings, the shelves sparsely stocked with a few unappetizing lagers.

“This is it?” he asked, unimpressed.

Pierre chuckled from the counter. “The local brewers already moved all their spring inventory. We'll have all the summer ales and shandies you could want in a week or two.”

“Eh. I’ll pass tonight.”

Shane didn’t really care that it was his birthday, but his direct deposit had just come through the day before, and he thought he’d treat himself at least a little bit. He headed next door to the saloon.

Emily and Gus were both in tonight, taking inventory of bottles and doing some light accounting, it looked like. They brightened at his arrival.

Shane peered around and realized the saloon was empty.

“Whoa.”

“We’ve been waiting for _you_!” exclaimed Gus jokingly.

“Hilarious,” said Shane as he took his corner seat. “I’ll take a pale ale, please.”

He sat there quietly and drank as they did their work. An hour or two had passed before the door opened again.

Shane turned to look. It was the new girl.

“Mil _aaa_!” Emily sang in greeting.

“Hey,” she replied. She too seemed bewildered by how empty it was. Her eyes darted to Shane briefly before she settled in the same seat at the middle of the bar.

“Felt a little stir-crazy, sitting at home alone on a Saturday,” she said. “Thought I’d swing by for a drink.”

“We appreciate the company,” chuckled Gus. “What can we get you, my dear?”

“Ehh…pale ale’s good today.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“And one for birthday boy over there too, while you’re at it. On me.”

Shane’s head shot up.

Gus and Emily looked at her, taken aback, their expressions somewhere between unsure and pleasantly surprised.

“Two pale ales!” confirmed Emily quickly, grabbing two glasses.

Shane studied the new girl suspiciously. She was tapping her fingers on the bar, avoiding his gaze and looking at the TV.

“How’d you know?” he asked, still staring at her.

Her cheeks turned pink. She gave him a smirk. “It’s not like it’s posted on the town bulletin board for all to see or anything.”

He grunted defeatedly as Emily walked over to him.

“Happy birthday, Shane,” she said kindly, setting one of the ales down in front of him.

Shane was backed into a corner now. He didn’t want to rub Gus or Em the wrong way. He already did the bare minimum of interacting with them to make his saloon visits as comfortable as possible. There was no one else in the saloon, no buffer, no distractions, for him to hide behind. He would have told her off otherwise.

He also wasn’t one to say no to free beer.

“...Thanks,” he said to her finally, unsure of what else to do.

The new girl wrinkled her nose and gave him a smile. “Happy birthday. Cheers.”

He was dumbfounded. This had to be some sort of passive-aggressive power play. Was it poisoned? A small part of him was hoping so.

She seemed satisfied with his response, turning her attention back to Emily and Gus now.

“Thank you for bringing me those ingredients the other day, by the way,” Gus said to her. “You really saved me some time and got me out of a bind.”

“Aww. Any time, Gus. Just throw it on the bulletin board, call me, whatever, if you ever need anything.”

Gus beamed at her.

“Say…” started Emily coyly. “When’s your birthday, Mila?”

The new girl-- _Mila_ , or whatever it was--looked at her quizzically.

“Winter 27...Why?”

“I _knew_ it!” cried Emily happily. “You are a _textbook_ winter. I’ve been trying to pin it down since you moved here. My hunch was right!”

“You believe in that kind of stuff?” asked Mila, laughing. Shane liked her answer.

“How much do you know about star charts and horoscopes?” asked Emily eagerly.

“I think I stopped checking when I turned, like, 12, to be honest.”

Emily’s face fell. Mila stuck out her bottom lip and gave her puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry, Em. I swear I’m not trying to tease you. I just know absolutely nothing about that kind of stuff.”

“ _Ooooh_!” squealed Emily. “Can I do a birth chart for you, then?! Read your cards?”

Mila and Gus laughed at her enthusiasm.

“I’m not kidding! I love this kind of stuff, Mila!”

Mila was stifling an exasperated chuckle. “Y’know...Why not?"

“Yay! Oh my gosh! Okay. Wanna come over tomorrow?”

“...Sure.”

“Who knows? Maybe we can get some insight into how your farming’s gonna go, your finances, your health…” Emily fluttered her eyelashes. “Your... _love life,_ ” she crooned dreamily.

Mila cupped her face in her hands, giggling uncomfortably at what she was getting herself into. Shane caught himself smiling too.

“I don’t know, Em,” she said. “I’m game, but I’ve had friends do readings and stuff for me before. Don’t know if I can handle another person going through all that work just to confirm to me that I have shitty luck.”

“What kind of chart did they do?” pressed Emily. “I go all out. Solar and lunar horoscopes, natal charts, synastry, you can really plan your year around this stuff! Maybe things have changed!”

“Yeah...can’t help but feel like I shouldn’t mess around too much with fate, though,” said Mila. “It’s like, whenever I do, another finger closes on the monkey’s paw.”

Shane couldn’t help himself. He let out a single snicker under his breath.

Emily caught him, whipping around to face him.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, smiling herself.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to stifle a giggle. “It’s just...this conversation.”

“What?!” Emily cried, mock-offended.

“You’re _really_ trying to sell her on this...and she’s just not havin’ it.”

Mila smiled guiltily. She raised her eyebrows at him for blowing her cover. He chortled again.

“ _Shane_ let me do it for him once,” said Emily, turning back to Mila. “Didn’t you have fun?”

“I don’t think any of the stuff you said was gonna happen, happened.” He was a little buzzed and socializing more than he would have liked.

Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s not like, a play-by-play! You have to take the readings into consideration and take it more as a guide. _You_ have to make your own decisions after.”

“Nah, Emily, I trust you,” Mila reassured her. “It’s sounds fun, who knows? Maybe things _have_ changed. I’m down for tomorrow. Really.”

They babbled back and forth, Shane retreating back to his drink.

He was starting to think the new girl wasn’t so bad. It was a shame that he probably already cemented himself as a deadbeat asshole in her mind.

The evening came and went. New girl called it a night around ten or so; Shane was too drunk at that point to recall. When she got up to leave, he noticed she was wearing a skirt. His eyes lingered on her exposed thighs, and drew up to her ass. He had previously thought she was pretty slim, but Yoba, did she have a _figure_ on her. Her legs probably beefed up from all that farm work.

When he got home later that night, Marnie and Jas were already asleep. He spotted Marnie’s cake stand on the kitchen table before he got to his room. Inside was a pink cake with some unlit candles stuck in it, and a few slices taken out already. A note was taped to the glass. He got closer to read it.

_Happy Birthday, Shane! - Jas, Marnie, and Mila._

Shane’s head jerked back.

“What the  _fuck_?”

He read it again.

 _Mila_?

...The new girl?

Shit was getting weird now.

It was hurting his head to try and unpack this while inebriated. Flustered, he barged into his room and went to bed, thinking of the small smile she gave him when she wished him a happy birthday.

 

\---

 

“Okay,” said Emily. “Let’s do this in my room, Haley’s bored to death of hearing me talk about this stuff. Want a coffee?”

Mila decided to take up Emily’s offer on the horoscope stuff. After completing her farm work that morning, she got ready and head over to the house on Willow Lane, Emily ushering her to the kitchen to pour her a mug of coffee.

“And my room’s over here!”

Mila was starting to get a better picture of what Emily was like. Her room smelled of incense and was littered with bolts of fabric, various sewing projects, houseplants, and assorted crystals.

“Get comfy,” Emily demanded, clearing some bolts and a sewing kit off a table. “Also, I’m sorry if I was a little pushy last night, I just get so excited!”

“No, you weren’t pushy at all,” said Mila, settling on a floor cushion and taking a sip of coffee. “I can tell it’s something you care about a lot. Don’t feel bad.”

“Okay, good!” Emily laughed in relief. “You’re so... _composed_. I couldn’t tell if I was getting on your nerves.”

Mila almost spit out her coffee.

“‘ _Composed’_?” she yelped. “Me?!”

Emily grinned toothily.

“...I’m speechless,” said Mila. “I feel like a dumpster fire on the inside.”

“Then you’re good at hiding it!” chuckled Emily. “It’s that winter in you. I’m a spring, and I’ve got a lot of fire in my chart. I put everything all out there right away. Sometimes, it gets me in trouble,” she added with a sheepish smile.

“I like that about you, though,” murmured Mila. “I think I appreciate it because talking to people is so hard for me.”

“Whaaa...really?” Emily looked crestfallen. “Why?”

“I get nervous, is all.” Mila insecurities were getting the better of her. “I hope nobody in Pelican Town takes it the wrong way.”

“Don’t be silly!” cried Emily. “I think you’ve been doing great since you moved here!”

Mila sighed. Did she want to get into this with a new acquaintance? They’d been getting along so well so far. She didn’t need to scare poor Em away with her anxiety issues.

“One of the reasons why I moved here in the first place was to have a fresh start,” she said. “I burned a few bridges back in the city because I was too anxious to reach out to people when I should have.” She took another sip of her coffee through pursed lips. “I’m trying really hard not to let that happen again.”

“Well...everyone here likes you so far,” said Emily encouragingly.

“Yeah.” Mila snorted derisively. “Everyone but Shane.”

Emily let out a confused chuckle.

“ _Shane_?” she repeated. “He’s like that with everyone.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Mila was getting worked up now. She thought of last night, how he had seemed more suspicious-- _annoyed_ , even--than grateful for her gesture. It was kind of humiliating.

“He’s nicer to you, though,” she said bitterly. “Of course the only guy in town who I thought was cute hates my fucking guts.”

Emily’s eyebrows raised in alarm.

“You think Shane is cute?”

Mila froze like a statue.

She’d said too much.

 _Fuck_.

“...”

“...”

Emily smiled impishly. It was a regular old western standoff.

“...Nnnnno?” Mila answered finally.

Somehow, it came out with an upward inflection. Her voice had raised an octave.

Emily burst out laughing, understanding finally dawning on her.

“ _You think Shane is cute_!”

“Stop.”

“I can’t believe it! _That’s_ why you act different when he’s around!”

“I-- _what_? No, I don’t!”

“ _Yes_!” Emily was full-on howling. “Oh my gosh! Yes, you _do!_  You were just nervous this whole time!”

All color drained out of Mila’s face. Was she really that obvious? She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

“Emily,” she said miserably. “I’m suffering. Please don’t make it worse than it already is.” She put her head on the table in defeat. “I need the soul slapped out of me. Why am I into a guy who won’t give me the time of day? Why am I baking cakes for his goddaughter and schmoozing with his aunt after he told me that I was ‘bothering him’?”

“You like that he’s hard-to-get,” answered Emily sagely.

Mila kept going. She was going to feel guilty later for venting, but fuck it.

“Like, it’s not like I need the validation, I don’t need to be friends with _everyone_ . I think part of me feels cheated. Because _I_ used to do to people what _he_ does. And here I am in this new town making a conscious effort-- _keyword: effort_ \-- and now I’m getting a taste of my own medicine.” She laughed contemptuously. “ _Karma_ , right?”

She slumped back down onto the table.

“Why does he hate me, Em?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” said Emily comfortingly. “Trust me, I can tell.”

“How did _you_ become friends with him even?” Mila turned her head to the side to look at her.

“It’s probably because I work at the saloon and he’s... _there_ every night,” said Emily. “I know he has Jas and Marnie at home and the Stardrop’s the only place he can get away from everything.” She paused. “He’s opened up about some of that stuff, y’know. Jas, work, his old life. He’s actually a sweetheart when he wants to be.”

There was silence as they both ruminated.

“Y’know, I always thought he’d be pretty cute myself if he just took better care of himself,” Emily admitted.

Mila turned to look at her again. Emily was slowly brightening.

“Hey! You said something that made him laugh last night! You know how hard it is to get that guy to crack a smile?”

“ _Emily_ …” Mila said in a warning tone.

Emily gasped.

“You two would actually look _adorable_ together!”

“Alright. You need to relax.”

“Wait, you said your birthday’s Winter 27, right? Let’s do that chart already, I still have his from way back when! Let’s see how compatible you two are!”

Mila covered her face with her hands and let out a sound between a frustrated sigh and a manic, barking laugh.

“Emily. Please don’t encourage me. I’m so sick of this shit already. C’mon. You don’t think I have any better prospects in town?”

Emily pondered for a bit. “Seb, maybe.”

Mila wrinkled her nose. “Yeee _aaaah_ , he’s cool. Just a little _too_ cool for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He just seems a bit...emotionally unavailable.”

Emily guffawed again. “And Shane doesn’t?”

“No-- _he_ just seems a bit closed off, but like...just needs to warm up to you?”

“Well...I could try and set you guys up!”

Mila’s heart sank. She looked at Emily, all smiles and good intentions.

She had a feeling she was about as subtle as a brick thrown through a window.

“You _knooooow_ ,” Emily continued, “the Flower Dance is this coming week.” The impish smile crept back on her face. “I could try and pull some strings to make sure you guys dance together.”

Mila blinked neurotically. _Flower Dance_? That was that old-fashioned Spring tradition that used to be a pagan fertility ritual until crusaders appropriated it in the name of Yoba. Mila read it in a book once in junior high.

“They still do Flower Dances in the Valley?” asked Mila weakly.

“Yeah! It’s one of our biggest holiday events,” replied Emily plainly.

“Emily, for the _love_ of Yoba,” Mila pleaded. “Please do not say anything to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. _Please_. I am begging you with every fiber of sinew and flesh in my body. I’ve embarrassed myself enough in front of him.”

Emily pursed her lips into a shrewd smile.

“If you say so…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this read like a teen high school romance IDC IM HAVING FUN LET ME CELEBRATE.  
> also, i type this in a google doc and paste it in AO3 when im done, so further apologies for the weird formatting errors (double spacing, extra spaces between italicized text, etc) i'll correct them as as i go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day? I decided to split chapter 6 up as it was too lengthy, IMO. So here's a short one, and the next one will be preeeetty long.
> 
> TW/CW: suicide ideation, depression
> 
> We're starting to unravel some threads of Shane's past here.

“Get that monster, behind the rock.”

“Good eye, Jas. Almost didn’t see it.”

Jas was watching Shane play a new video game he treated himself to. Every now and then, she liked to tiptoe into his room and just hang out with him. Usually, she’d ask him to come to her room to read her a story or draw with her.

Tonight, he appreciated that she just wanted to sit in. He just wasn’t feeling up to anything else at the moment.

She yawned, leaning against him lazily on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her and grabbed his controller again.

“Uncle Shane, can I have some more pink cake?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s almost bedtime, I don’t need you cracked out on pink cake at 9:00 PM.”

Shane was still highly perturbed by the presence of the cake. When he woke up that morning and saw it was indeed in the kitchen, he knew his encounter with it the evening before wasn’t a dream.

Her name was even still on the note.

 _Mila_.

“What the hell is this all about?” he had asked Marnie as she was washing dishes from breakfast.

“It’s your birthday cake, silly.”

“Why is the new girl’s name on the note?” he’d asked curtly.

“What of it?” asked Marnie, lips pursed. Shane knew his short tone was getting to her. “She made the darn thing. She said she’d bake one after Jas said she wanted to give you one for your birthday. She brought it over after you left to Pierre’s.”

Shane was nonplussed. _She_ was the one who made it?

“ _Why_ the hell--”

Marnie slammed a plate into the sink.  
  
“Shane, what on earth is _wrong_ with you?!” she snapped. “You get a gift and you look the damn horse in the mouth?! That girl has done nothing but gone out of her way to run errands for and give gifts to people since she moved to this town, on top of trying to fix up what’s left of her granddaddy’s farm. What could you possibly have against her already? Can’t you just take a gift for what it is?”

He’d pushed too far. He glowered at her, unable to apologize.

“You haven’t even _been around_ to see how well she gets on with Jas!” she went on. “That should _mean_ something to you, you know. You should _thank_ her for making Jas happy, let alone going through the trouble to bake the damn thing from scratch.” She furiously picked up the plate again and started scrubbing it.

“In fact, don’t make me call her up and _ask_ her to check and make sure that you’ve thanked her proper. Now stop asking questions and have a damn slice already.”

Shane had almost forgotten how long the wick was on Marnie’s bad temper. He’d decided to drop it.

Sitting in his room now, he remembered the birthday beer Mila bought him. He found it baffling that she made no mention that she had brought a cake to his home, let alone that she had become friends with his goddaughter and aunt.

Then again, just as Marnie had said, she had just been going out of her way to help people. He remembered Gus thanking her for some errand last night at the saloon. He was just another on her list.

That smile she gave him swam back into his memory, putting goosebumps on his arms. He tried to forget it.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked down and realized that Jas was dozing off. He sighed, paused his game, and scooped her up gently.

“ _Nnn_ \--I’m not sleepy yet,” she retorted.

“Yeah, sure you’re not. C’mon, bedtime.”

He carried her to her room.

“My birthday’s soon,” she mumbled tiredly into his shoulder. “Can Miss Mila make me a pink cake too?”

Shane sighed again. “I don’t know, kid.”

He set her down on her bed and started to tuck her in.

“I _really_ like bunny-jewel slippers,” she murmured, slipping away into sleep. “Can I get them for my birthday?”

Shane had forgotten that Jas’ birthday was coming up fast.

“Well. You gotta be good. Gotta do what Penny says and finish all your homework. Gotta do your chores and help Aunt Marnie.”

“I _am_ good, I do all that stuff.”

“No promises yet. Keep at it, though.” He tucked her favorite stuffed bunny under her blanket with her. “Night, Jas.”

“I love you, Uncle Shane.”

“Love you too, kid. Sleep tight.”

He stepped into the hall, closing her door quietly behind him. It was just past nine, and he was still wide awake.

He went back to his room and grabbed a six-pack out of his mini-fridge.

The end-of-the-month paycheck was always the roughest. He had to set aside enough money for rent, most of his bills, Jas’ savings account, and his looming personal loans.

It was cheaper to pick up his own beer during this time. Besides that, he didn’t have it in him to deal with anyone today, not even Gus or Emily.

He stepped out of the ranch and into the night air, six-pack in hand. Summer was just around the corner, and the evenings were starting to warm up.

The dock just west of Marnie’s ranch was quiet and secluded. He used to go diving off it in his summers as a kid. Since he moved to Pelican Town, he rediscovered how much he liked its peacefulness. It had become his preferred drinking spot as of late, a place where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He lowered himself and sat down on the creaky, old wood, legs dangling over the water. He cracked open a can and gulped down half of it immediately.

He grabbed his phone and looked up the slippers Jas was talking about. He hissed out loud, dismayed, when he saw the price. Not a single retailer was selling them for less than 2,500g.

“ _Fuck_ me,” he uttered.

There was no way he could save up in time to get them by her birthday. He downed the other half of the can, grabbing another beer immediately and pulling the tab.

How much had he even spent on bullshit this month? He racked up a tab of five or six beers a night, roughly 400g on average. _And_ he had gone to the saloon almost every night that month. He cursed himself for having the audacity to buy that video game earlier. No wonder he was so fucking broke.

He chugged down half of the second can.

Jake and Gisele would turn in their graves if they knew what kind of life they had doomed Jas to when they died. They used to scold Shane when he drank too much, told him to grow up when he dropped out of school, chastised him for wasting his life away as they started theirs together. Why did those fucking idiots pick him as a godfather? It was fucking unfair to Jas.

Shane felt a sting in his eyes. He finished the can and grabbed a third.

The buzz was starting to set in. Good. It would dull the pain that was creeping back from his back injury. He cracked the beer open and drank deep.

He had to stop thinking about Jake and Gisele. Something, anything else, he couldn’t bear to think of them, not right now.

He had work tomorrow. A battered voice in his conscience begged him to stop drinking now.

 _Fuck_ work. Fuck Joja. Fuck Morris. Every day was a three-sided battle; a part of him wished they’d fire him already, another knew that no one else would hire him because of his record, and the last part was barely clinging on for Jas.

He finished his third beer anyway and grabbed the fourth.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated and lit up with a text. It was probably Marnie wondering where he was.

He picked it up to read the push notification.

_ >>>Lyna: Hey. Idk if you deleted my number or anything but i wanted to wish you a happy belated birthday. i hope you and jas are well and i think of you guys all the time. If you don’t want to respond i understand. Take care either way. _

Shane’s eyes bulged.

He wasn’t religious, but this was almost enough proof he needed to believe in Yoba. Only an all-powerful being would be cruel enough to spite him on an already bad night with an unsolicited text from an ex-girlfriend.

He grunted in frustration, throwing the phone away from him. He cracked open the beer and chugged it as fast as he could. The buzz was evolving into drunkenness. It couldn’t happen fast enough.

He leaned back and lay flat on the dock, looking up at the stars. He was overwhelmed, not sure what to be pissed off about first, trying to unpack and prioritize what was most upsetting out of all pretty fucking equally upsetting things. He felt tears start to pool in the corner of his eyes. He wiped them away before they spilled down his cheeks.

“Wuss,” he chided himself.

He remembered the new girl, Mila.

That was the cherry on top of the big, shit sundae. A hot ass girl moves into town, moves next door to him even, buys him a beer, bakes him a cake, befriends his goddaughter, and gives him a smile that puts butterflies in his stomach--something he hadn’t experienced in so long, it was like it was new again.

He thought of how she wore her eyeliner, her perfume, her deceptively petite frame, her surprisingly shapely legs and ass in that skirt. It’s like she was put here to _torture_ him.

He should have listened to what his gut told him the first day he saw her: she was, is, and always will be, unattainable.

She was just being _nice_. No need to get a wild hair up his ass. Out of social obligation, out of pity, who knows, but she definitely wasn’t interested in him beyond that, and she definitely didn’t owe him shit. He reached for his fifth beer, propping himself up slightly to open and chug it, killing it in a few gulps. He burped from the carbonation and threw the can aimlessly into the water.

Exhaustion washed over him and his eyelids started to droop. He was too tired to get up and go home. He’d just sleep there. He didn’t care if it’d get too cold or if he got sick.

He sniffed, a chill coming over him, too drunk and sleepy to move.

“Fucking _kill_ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this intense or is it badly-too-fast-paced idk


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combo Flower Dance and Shane's 2 hearts event (ಥ﹏ಥ)(ಥ﹏ಥ)(ಥ﹏ಥ)

It was the day of the Flower Dance. Mila wrapped up her farm work quickly that morning; with the new season just around the corner, she didn’t need to worry too much about tending her crops. They’d be swapped out for summer seeds in just a few days anyway.

Lemmy padded contentedly at her side as she started some coffee, before she pulled out her blow-dryer and makeup. Scanning her closet, she finally settled on a navy bodycon turtleneck dress, paired with suede pumps. It was something she used to wear when she worked in corporate, but after moving to the Valley with just the bare minimum of her old wardrobe, she didn’t have much else that would pass for formal attire. She wanted to keep it a little conservative for her first town festival anyway.

When she had finished putting it all together, she reread Mayor Lewis’ note.

 

_There’s a little clearing beyond the forest west of town where we hold the dance. Arrive between 9 AM and 2 PM if you’re interested._

 

She finished her coffee, grabbed a light coat, and was ready to head out around 11.

“Bye, Lem,” she said, patting the dog. He licked her hand and rolled on his back for belly scratches. She obliged him, careful not to get fur on her dress.

She was jittery as she set out across the forest towards the clearing. She shouldn’t have had so much coffee.The caffeine was only intensifying her dread.

There was something strangely archaic and awkward about the Flower Dance to her; forced romance, probably. It reawakened memories of high school, of the pressure to find a date to attend prom or formal with, and the weird, sexual or romantic undertones that came with it.

Strains of string music started to drift through the forest. Mila could see some posts ahead, pastel colored pennants decorating them. This had to be it.

She came upon the clearing, the festival already underway. Townsfolk were gathering and mingling, cocktails in hand. Mila spied Gus busily arranging a buffet table, a big pineapple glazed ham sitting at the center. Enormous tubs of spring flowers punctuated tables draped in lacy, white tablecloth, and paper lanterns and streamers floated above them.

To Mila’s dismay, all the women were dressed in confectionery tulle dresses, all in pastel colors and ribbons in their hair. Anxiety set in her stomach. She missed the memo on this one.

“Hey, Miss Farmer!”

Mila turned and saw Pierre tending a gift stand.

“ _Well,"_  he chuckled. “Don’t you look... _nice._ ” He gave her that idle smile, his eyes moving up and down her body. Mila struggled not to visibly cringe.

“ _Hi!_  Thanks!” She scampered away from him, looking for someone, anyone she could comfortably latch on to.

Emily was immediately on the other side of the stand, thank Yoba. She was dressed in a pale, peachy chiffon number, probably something she made herself. She perked up at Mila’s appearance.

“Yaaay, you came!” She hugged Mila excitedly.

“ _Em, you didn’t fucking tell me to come dressed in Sunday’s best,"_ Mila hissed at her, distressed. “I thought this ensemble was going to be on the _conservative_ side.” She lost her footing slightly, and one of her high heels sunk through the grass like a golf tee.

“Mother _fuck,"_ she swore.

Emily offered her arm for stability as Mila struggled to pull her heel out of the grass.

“It’s not a big deal!” she said, trying to comfort Mila. “Don’t worry, you look gorgeous! Just take a deep breath, have a spritzer or two!”

“Yeah,” sighed Mila with a shudder. “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You know who _else_ is here?” asked Emily in a sing-song tone.

Mila looked at her hopelessly as she waggled her eyebrows towards the buffet table.

There was Shane, hovering around the buffet, a beer bottle in hand. He looked out-of-character, dressed in a gray button-up and slacks, his hair slicked back with a little pomade. He seemed to be staring blankly into the distance, at nothing in particular, as he drank.

“ _Oh,_ yeah,” said Mila condescendingly, her mouth dry. “That makes me feel _a lot_ better.”

“Are you gonna ask him to dance?” asked Emily mischievously.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Emily shrugged. “Just go for it! What are you afraid of?”

“Rejection, embarrassment, social alienation, stigma,” Mila listed.

“Just say ‘hi’ to him!”

“He looks like he’s having a dissociative episode.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Go over there and get a drink already, silly.”

Mila nodded rapidly. She could use a little alcohol right now.

She walked across the clearing, over to the buffet, Gus noticing her approach.

“Hey, Gus, good morning.”

“Good morning, Mila!” he greeted, beaming at her. “Hope you’re hungry!”

“How about thirsty?”

“Oh, yes. Would you care for a spritzer? Cocktail? I’ve prepared a peach sangria as well, very delicious.”

“Ooh. I’ll take the sangria, for sure.”

Shane was still hovering to the side of the table. Mila dared to look in his direction.

He noticed her, their gazes meeting.

Mila gulped.

“Hey,” she said lightly, mustering a small smile.

“Hey,” he said back, just as tentatively.

He clearly looked like he had shaved that morning, but to no avail; the 5 o'clock shadow was already back. Mila caught a faint whiff of some sort of cologne or aftershave emanating from him. Her stomach did a somersault.

“Here you are, refreshing sangria!” Gus ladled a glass for her and placed it on the table.

Mila snatched it and tried to inconspicuously wander away like she had somewhere to go. She whirled back towards Emily for help, but she was busy talking to Clint, the town blacksmith. She turned right and saw Sebastian, Abigail, and Sam at a round table on the other side of the buffet. Relief washing over her, she beelined for them instead.

“Hey guys,” she huffed, taking a seat next to Sam.

“Heyyy!” said Sam. “Decided to go goth for your first Flower Dance, huh? _Bold._ I like it.”

“This is _navy,_ Sam, not black,” retorted Mila. “I didn’t realize there was a fucking dress code.”

“I wish there wasn’t,” pouted Abigail. “My mom _screamed_ at me this morning until I agreed to wear this.” She tugged at the white tulle of her dress miserably.

“Yeah,” said Mila. “I was hanging out with Emily the other day and she failed to mention to me that that was a thing.”

Shane had wandered to the buffet table in front of them, fixing himself a plate unassumingly. Mila looked beyond him and saw Emily, a gigantic chipmunk smile on her face, waggling her eyebrows towards him and looking at Mila excitedly. Clint stood next to her, perplexed at what she was doing.

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail noticed too.

“What is she...doing?” asked Abigail.

“I’m. Not. _Sure_ ,” said Mila stonily, gritting her teeth and throwing Emily a death glare. She rubbed her temples disgruntledly. Time to just ignore her and change the subject.

“So, you guys still do this every year? Even with the town as small as it is?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” said Sam. “But there’s something about it! A lot of couples _have_ actually gotten together because of the Flower Dance.”

“My parents did, way back when,” added Abigail. “But it’s definitely become more of a tradition thing than anything serious.”

“I don’t know, I kinda like it,” proclaimed Sam. “It’s fun, makes for good gossip when some new item hits the floor.”

Sebastian had been quiet the entire time. Mila nudged the toe of his shoe with hers.

“What’s up with you?” she asked.

He sighed. “I hate this kinda shit. I’m fiending for a cigarette right now.” He was jiggling his leg nervously.

“He lost a match of _Alley Brawler_ to me,” said Abigail smugly. “Now he has to be my dance partner today.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Sebastian professed.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Mila, surprised. “You guys are dancing too?” They seemed too cool to engage in this goofy, dated custom.

“Yup! Do you have a partner?” asked Sam eagerly.

“No,” answered Mila. “Wanna dance with me?” She wouldn’t mind dancing with Sam, just as a friend.

“Aaaaah. I’d love to, but I already promised Penny I would,” he said apologetically. “Sorry, Mila.”

 _Fuck_.

“No, don’t be sorry, just checking,” said Mila. “Guess I’ll sit here alone and just watch you guys like a loser.”

“I’m sure you could find someone real quick!” said Sam. “Uh...you could ask...Marlon...or Willlie…Shane...”

Abigail and Sebastian snickered. Mila fought the urge to tell them off.

“Attention, villagers!” Mayor Lewis’ voice boomed through a PA system. “Gather your partners, and step to the floor. It’s time for the Flower Dance!”

“Peace,” said Sam, jumping up to grab Penny.

“Wish us luck,” said Abigail with a smirk, grabbing Sebastian by his sleeve. He followed her, looking like he’d rather be dead.

The pairs were starting to line up: Sebastian with Abigail, Sam with Penny, Harvey, the town doctor, with his assistant, Maru, Elliot the writer with Leah, Emily’s sister, Haley, dancing with her friend Alex. Emily, evidently, was asked by Clint to dance, the two of them standing together. She waved to Mila cheerily from the dance floor, Clint looking nervous next to her.

Mila downed her glass of sangria. It was gonna be a long day. She got up to ladle herself some more from the buffet.

The music started, a bouncy waltz coming over the PA. The couples started to move, the tulle of dresses whirling in time to the song.

Mila couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. She’d probably be mortified if she was up there. Simultaneously, something in her told her she was a failure for not being able to procure a date or dance partner in time.

When she turned to sit back down, she saw Shane sitting at the table in front of her, his back to her, watching the dancers and drinking a cocktail. She quietly seated herself just as Jas and a little red-haired boy ran up to him.

“Uncle Shane, Vincent and I wanna dance!”

“I wanna be the Flower Queen!” exclaimed the little boy.

“Go for it, guys," said Shane nonchalantly, taking a gulp of his drink. “Knock yourselves out.”

The kids tittered excitedly, before Jas looked over her godfather’s shoulder and noticed Mila sitting behind him.

“Hi, Miss Mila,” she said, shy, but happy to see her. Shane turned in his seat to look and see who she was talking to.

“Hi, Jas,” Mila said in return. “I just _love_ your dress. Lavender’s my favorite. You gonna dance with your friend?”

“Yeah.” Jas gave her that sheepish smile before grabbing the little boy by the hand and running to the floor together.

Mila and Shane, now isolated, looked at eachother.

Mila swirled her drink idly.

 _Just make small talk, for the love of Yoba,_ she thought to herself.

“Not dancing?” she asked, finally.

Shane shook his head. “Not my thing.”

Mila smiled wryly. “Yeah, mine neither.” She took another sip of her sangria. “This is, though,” she said, raising her glass.

Shane managed a single snort of laughter.

To Mila’s surprise, he spoke again.

“It’s your first Flower Dance, right?”

Mila tried to settle her palpitating heart.

“Yeah, actually. It's...cute.”

Shane had taken another gulp of his drink, wincing and smacking his lips. “You think it’s bullshit too, huh?”

Mila giggled. “A little. But it’s a tradition, I get it. Who am I to judge?”

Shane grunted. “I’ll judge all day. Free eats and open bar, though.”

She obliged him with a snicker.

They both became silent and watched the dancers for a moment, before Shane stood up, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m getting another. You want anything? I’ll grab it for you.” He pointed at his empty glass.

“Oh!” Mila was taken aback. “Uh...whatever you’re having is cool.”

“Whiskey sour?” he asked, wanting to make sure that she was sure.

“My favorite,” she replied.

He nodded and shuffled back to the buffet.

Mila felt like she was going to faint. Did Emily say something to him, after she told her to keep it a secret? She was going to strangle that girl if she let on that Mila had a thing for him.

Then again, it seemed to be going well. He was a bit callous, but they were talking-- _getting along,_ even--just fine.

“Here.”

Mila looked up at Shane, who had returned holding two glasses of chartreuse colored liquid.

“Gus doesn’t fuck around,” he said, handing a glass to her. “These things are poured _heavy._ ”

“Hell yeah,” she said, taking a sip. The mix was almost tart enough to hide the burn of whiskey. She grimaced. “ _Woof_. No kidding.”

Shane stood there awkwardly. Mila motioned at her table.

“You can sit here, if you want,” she said. “Have a seat, we’re all friends here.”

He smirked, taking her offer. He settled on a chair, a couple of seats between them still.

Silence again as they both drank. Mila tried to discreetly finish half her drink.

 _Just taking the edge off_.

“So…” Shane began, startling Mila. “I heard you’re the one who made that cake for my birthday.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Mila grinned. “That was me. Surprise!”

“I never got to thank you,” he said. “So, thank you. And another ‘thank you’ again for the beer that night at the saloon.” He cupped his hand over his face. “ _Yoba_. I’m fucking drunk. Sorry.”

“You’re fine! You’re welcome, dude.” Mila was feeling buzzy herself, her cheeks warm. “You should thank Jas, though. It was her idea.”

“Yeah. You’re her best friend now, you know. Won’t stop asking for pink cake. Wants to know when you’ll next drop by.”

“Aw,” said Mila, touched. “I’ll make sure to come around more often. I’ll pick her up some crayons or paints or something.”

Shane smiled, only one corner of his mouth turning upwards. “She’d like that.”

The music came to a close, the dancers breaking back to their tables.

“I’ll leave,” mumbled Shane. He abruptly got up and ushered himself back to his own table before Mila could stop him.

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail ambled back to their seats.

“That was fun!” exclaimed Sam, fanning himself with his hand. “Don’t you think, Seb?”

“Fucking finally,” said Sebastian. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “I’m headed to the cliffside to have a smoke. Can’t take it anymore.”

Abigail smirked. “He’ll feel better once he’s back.”

Dusk eventually set. Mila, with the help of alcohol, found it easier to mingle at the festival. She caught up with Marnie and the other ladies of Pelican Town, doted on Jas and her friend, Vincent, and rubbed elbows with Mayor Lewis and Gus. She spotted Emily next, talking spiritedly with Dr. Harvey, Elliot, and Leah.

“Hey, Mila!” Emily motioned her closer. Mila wandered over, joining them.

“You guys all looked fantastic,” she said, addressing the group. “Was it fun?”

“Yes!” said Harvey. “I was nervous at first, but, honestly, I’m glad I went for it. Poor Maru had to lead me through it all, though.”

“I feel like this is one of the booziest festivals of the year,” said Leah with a laugh. “It’s like they _know_ it’s awkward and we need a little something to get through it.”

“Oh, come now, you think it’s that bad?” chided Elliot. “Wine, flowers, dancing...a beautiful view of the forest and ocean at once...and the lanterns are being lit now. I’m quite enjoying this ambiance.”

“I’m with Elliot,” said Emily. “I can’t help it! This romantic aura is really getting to me.”

They chattered excitedly as the night went on, toasting and relaxing. Mila was enjoying their company, when she turned and saw that Shane had vanished from his table.

Townsfolk were starting to turn in for the night. Eventually, it was just the five of them left, sitting lazily at a table, drinking what was left of the sangria and talking about music and art. Mila was comforted to learn that almost all of them were recent transplants to Stardew Valley as well.

Elliot stood up.

“Well, it’s good to know I’m not the only one in town with a taste for jazz.” He smiled amiably, waving at them all. “It’s been lovely, but I'll head home now.”

“I think I’ll call it too,” said Harvey. “Still gotta open the clinic bright and early tomorrow.”

“Good night, guys!” called Leah. “I’m _bushed_. What time is it even?”

Mila checked her phone. “Almost eleven. Oh, Yoba. We’ve really been here all day, huh?” She draped her coat over her shoulders, a chill starting to set in. “Alright, y'all. Good night.”

Emily looped her elbow through Mila’s. “Walk me home?”

“M’lady,” said Mila, leading her back towards the forest. Emily guffawed.

They started through the Cindersap together, Mila barefoot and carrying her heels in her free hand.

“ _So…"_  said Emily playfully. “I saw you talking to Shane while I was dancing!”

“Yeah! It went alright,” said Mila. “He thanked me for the cake and the beer. He seemed pretty drunk, though. Maybe it was a fluke.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” said Emily, “he _needs_ to be that drunk to talk to you in the first place. _Maybe_ he likes you too!”

“Emily,” said Mila crossly. “Did you do what I asked you not to?”

“I haven’t uttered a peep, I solemnly swear,” said Emily, her lip stiff. “If he was sweet to you, it was all on his own.”

Mila let out an exaggerated sigh. “Em...what are you getting my hopes up for?”

Emily threw back her head with a cackle. “You sound just like him! Why can’t you two just accept a good thing, ever?”

They tread forward, until Emily slowed slightly, squinting into the night.

“Is that…?”

Mila looked up. The Cindersap lake was ahead of them, a single, small lantern sitting on its dock.

A solitary figure sat at the edge, drinking from a can.

“That’s _Shane,_ ” whispered Emily excitedly.

Mila’s stomach jolted again. Emily wiggled her arm free from the crook of Mila’s elbow.

“The farm is that way anyway, isn’t it?” she said, smiling slyly. "I’ll just head along the south side of the lake and back into town. Why don’t you wish him a good night?”

“ _Em_!” hissed Mila.

“I believe in you!” sang Emily, hastening her speed and deliberately abandoning her friend.

Mila stood alone now, barefoot in the forest. Dew was starting to form on the grass, and the air was growing chillier.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she said out loud to herself.

Still, she was tempted, enticed, to talk to Shane again. And Em was right; passing the dock was going to be the fastest way back home.

She still felt a little drunk from the sangria and whiskey. Good.

Mila carefully trudged closer. He had an entire 12-pack of cheap beer sitting next to him. A few cans were littered around him, some empty and tipped over.

Her feet rustled the grass as she approached. Shane looked up as the sound caught his attention.

“...Hey,” Mila said, greeting him hesitantly. She hoped she wasn’t bothering him.

“Hey.” He lifted his beer to his lips, taking a drink and peering at her over the can. “Up late, huh?”

“Yeah. The last of us just cleared the festival.” She took a few steps closer to the dock. “You’re not tired?”

He scoffed. “Nah. You?”

“Not really.”

Shane turned and faced the lake again. “Take a seat, if you want.”

Mila’s heart skipped. She walked over and lowered herself, sitting beside him at the edge of the dock.

“Here, have a cold one.” He reached into the 12-pack and handed her a beer. He drained his own and grabbed another.

Mila watched him, amazed. “Man. You were marathon-drinking whiskey sours all day and you’ve got beer now?”

Shane grunted. “I stopped for a minute, but I started feeling like absolute shit when I got home. Only way to keep the hangover at bay is to keep drinking.” He cracked the tab on his can. “What about you? Sangria, whiskey, and beer now? Kid, you’re gonna have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.”

Mila smiled bitterly. “Eh. I’ll take a beer. It’s been a while since I’ve drank this much. I had fun today.” She pulled the tab and took a sip. “I’ll just pound water when I get home.”

Silence. Mila looked over at him. His hair was ruffled again, and he had changed back into his standard outfit of cargo shorts and a Tunnelers polo, raggedy hoodie thrown on over it. She somehow found him more handsome this way, more than she did when he was cleaned up earlier. She turned her beer restlessly in her hands.

“You come here often?” she asked him.

“Lately, yeah.”

“It’s nice. Peaceful.”

“Mm.”

Another quiet moment passed between them. Mila was starting to realize it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Buh…” he grumbled. “ _Life_.”

Mila looked at him curiously.

“What are you doing, talking to a loser like me?” he asked, slurring slightly. “All your friends called it a night already? Sam, Sebastian, all them?”

Mila made a face. “Well, they did. But you’re not a loser.”

Shane chuckled darkly, taking a deep swig from his beer. Mila followed his lead and took a chug as well.

Shane pursed his lips, words welling up behind them.

“You ever feel like…no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail?”

Mila stared at him, alarmed.

“...Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss...and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?”

A weight dragged Mila’s heart.

“You...really feel that way?”

Shane scoffed again, crushing his now-empty can in his fist and grabbing a new one. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Sorry. Must be losing a handle on my liquor.”

“Is it because of work?” asked Mila. “Your hoodie...you work for Joja. I used to too, you know. Corporate HQ, in the call center.” She sighed heavily. “I didn’t have good days there either.”

“Work’s definitely a factor,” said Shane, drinking thoughtfully. “There’s other shit, though.”

“Have you tried finding a new job? There’s a train that heads to Zuzu not too far from here. It’d be a shitty commute, but anything you find there would beat Joja, I bet. Just gotta drive to the station.”

Shane laughed loudly. It was a bitter, derisive laugh. Mila jolted.

“You’re not wrong. I have no other choice, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t have a car, for one. Can’t afford the insurance.” There was a short silence as he killed the rest of his beer and reached for yet another. He stifled a burp. “So I gotta stay local and work in Pelican Town. It’s good for Jas, for one. And two, JojaMart is the only place around here that’ll hire you with a DUI on your record.”

Mila stared at her feet dangling over the dock. “Oh.”

Shane pulled another beer from the case, handing it to her. “Hilarious, right?”

Mila grimaced. She took the can from him anyway.

Shane huffed a sigh. “Look at me, man. My life’s a fucking joke. I’ve pissed away every opportunity that was handed to me, fucked it all up, like I always have, like I always do, and just as its made clear that I have no business being trusted to do anything right, ever, I get handed my dead best friend’s kid.” He laughed again. “What’d _she_  do to deserve _me_? She’s barely old enough to tie her own fucking shoes.”

“She _loves_ you,” said Mila. “That’s clear as day. Don’t beat yourself up about that. I’m sorry to hear about your friend.”

“ _Friends_ ,” corrected Shane. “Him and his girl both died that day.” His eyes focused intensely on the water, his brow furrowed in frustration. “From getting _hit._ By a _drunk driver_.”

“Oh, _Shane…_ ” Mila’s heart sank.

“I had just gotten my DUI a couple of months before that.” He drank again. “Still feel fucking bad for me? Don’t bother. I’m fucking scum. I don’t deserve it.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“Or what? What do you give a fuck for?” He lurched suddenly, but hissed in pain, his hand flying up behind him and pressing against his back. “Back’s been fucked up ever since too. Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt anybody. Just crashed my car right into a center divider. Deserved that for sure.”

He hunched over, hand cupping his forehead like he had a headache.

“Every day’s a blur, and I'm just getting older. Work’s the same shit every day. My manager actively dicks me out of hours, or makes me work overtime when it's the worst possible time for me, and most convenient for him. I don’t have benefits, I can’t afford insurance. Can’t blame anyone but myself. Can’t leave the Valley. Everyone in town treats me like ass, but only because I did it first.” He wiped his mouth, gazing out at the lake. “I’ve fucked myself over my entire life. Dug my own grave, made my own bed. And now I’ve gotta lie in it.”

Mila looked at him sadly. She wanted to hug him, or pat him reassuringly, but wasn't sure if it'd be of any help.

“I just feel like no matter how hard I try…I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole,” he mumbled.

Mila didn’t know what to say. She cracked open the beer he gave her and chugged deeply, finishing the entire can in a few seconds. Shane watched her and chuckled softly.

“Fast drinker, huh?” He grabbed the last can out of the case and placed it next to her. “Woman after my own heart.”

Mila was too despondent to feel flattered.

“You can have it,” she muttered. She was done with drinking for the night.

“If you say so.” He took the can back and pulled the tab. “You know, your taste in beer isn’t half bad. I’ve seen what you get at the saloon. And you can _drink,_ too. Dainty little thing like you should be blacked out sick after wine, liquor, and beer all in one day.”

Mila tried to muster a smile for him.

“Just don’t make it a habit,” he said, drinking bitterly. “You got a future ahead of you still.”

“And you don’t?”

Shane scoffed yet again. “There's nothing ahead for me. Not with my track record.”

He suddenly stood up, groaning as he straightened his legs.

“Welp...my liver’s beggin’ me to stop. Better call it a night.”

Mila watched him stretch a bit before getting up herself. Her thoughts stewed before she stepped towards him.

“Hey,” she said sternly. She put a hand on his shoulder. Shane froze under her touch.

“Listen. If you need _anything_ , if you start feeling like this, if you need someone to talk to...talk to _me_. Please. I know you said you’re drunk, but don’t play this off like its some one-time thing. I’ll _be_ there. I won’t forget, I promise.” She looked at him pleadingly. “You hear me?”

Shane smiled dryly at her. “Yeah.”

Silence again between them. Mila’s hand faltered slightly on his shoulder. She pulled it away and stared at him.

“I’ll see you around, Mila." He turned away, wandering back towards the ranch.

Mila watched him as he made his way back, saw him faintly illuminated by Marnie’s porch light before he pulled a key out of his pocket and disappeared through the door. As soon as it closed behind him, she felt a single tear roll down her cheek.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy its the mother of all headcanons. no seriously, this chapter is my headcanon of almost the entirety of shane's life. i'm sORRY
> 
> tw: car accidents, death, nonreciprocal relationships, junkie parents, brief mention of sex

Shane stepped into his room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. After spending all day maintaining a certain level of inebriation, the quiet darkness of his bedroom brought about a brief moment of clarity.

He had been drunkenly brave enough to strike up a conversation with Mila at the Flower Dance. He braced himself to be ignored or dismissed, but she had obliged him, accepted a drink and his thanks, and bantered with him even.

She looked _incredible_. Her skin was exceptionally golden against her navy dress, her jet-black hair lightly tousled and framing her face angelically. Her dress hugged her body, clung to every curve of her silhouette. When she sat, he noticed how her thighs and hips widened as they flattened against her seat. She positively _oozed_ sex appeal. He had felt himself break into a sweat at just the sight of her.

He was embarrassed to sit too closely to her, lest she notice his less-than-stellar physique without his jacket to hide under. He didn’t feel worthy, didn’t want to humiliate her by giving the townsfolk the impression that she was hanging out with him.

After she had rejoined her friends, Marnie had pulled him aside sometime in the early evening.

“Shane,” she said urgently. “For the love of Yoba, _please_ stop drinking already. Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m not bothering anyone,” he said defensively.

“You _reek_ of liquor,” she said, her eyes shining with what Shane could tell were tears. “Jodi just came up to me and said that Vincent mentioned something about it. She wasn’t happy.”

Shane pursed his lips. “Sorry. I’ll just go home.”

“Shane, you don’t have to go ho-”

He had already sauntered away. _She_ was the one who woke him up early that morning and made him dress up and come to the stupid fucking festival in the first place.

He had a case of beer in his room waiting for him anyway. He’d take it to the dock and drink alone, just as he had originally intended.

And then, _she_ showed up again.

Mila, coming home from the festival, materialized out of the forest.

He was _shit-faced_ at that point. Dread washed over him when she started talking to him. She looked at him with doleful brown eyes, and he realized that maybe she wasn’t as snobby or pretentious as he had originally written her off to be.

Then, he fucked it all up.

She had made a marked step forward in trying to get to know him.

He took that as an opportunity to burden her with all of his deepest, darkest thoughts.

He recognized the look in her eyes, even though she hadn't said much. Alarm. Fear. Pity.

When she had first moved to town, he wanted nothing to do with her.

Now that he had decided she wasn’t so bad, he had succeeded in scaring her away for good.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, cursing himself. He should have at least offered to walk her back home after ruining her night. “Fucking _idiot_.”

Work tomorrow. He’d best get to bed. Sleep was the last thing on his mind.

He had told her about Jake and Gisele. Told her about his DUI. _Fuck_.

As much as he was ashamed, he felt he probably did her a favor by revealing himself to be the human dumpster fire he was.

He stripped down to his underwear, his body running hot with anxiety, remorse, and anger. He crawled into bed and tried his best to close his eyes and drift off.

 

\---

 

“Film and Electronic Arts major, huh?” drawled the student counselor. “That’s quite the leap from gridball, son.”

Shane’s eyes bored into him. He was used to this reaction at this point.

“Says here you got yourself a scholarship to Grampleton State to play ball. Why are you enrolling at UZC?” He was clearly from Stardew Valley, speaking with a slight country lilt.

It pissed Shane off immediately. He sounded just like his old man.

“Zuzu City’s my home,” Shane said bluntly. “I’m not leaving it.”

“Don’t think you’ve got it so figured out just yet. You’re clipping your damn wings before you even fly. Now, you’ve got yourself here an _incredible_ opportunity. Some kids train their whole lives hoping for a scholarship like this. You’re gonna throw that away for...what? _Cinematography_? A life of thankless freelance work?”

Shane stood up. “Didn’t come here to get a lecture.”

“Now, hold on just a second--”

“Do you people want my fucking money or what?”

The counselor ground his jaw. “Get out of my office.”

Shane scoffed, grabbed his backpack, and left.

Jake was sitting on a bench outside. He jumped when he saw Shane storming out, scrambling to catch up with him.

“Whoa, dude, what happened in there?”

“Just another salty old fuck who wants to piss on and on about Grampleton,” said Shane, seething. “All I want is for _one fucking person_ in this administration to help me. Whose dick do I have to suck to get my classes straightened out?”

“Just find another counselor, man. Or, go straight to the FEA building. These guys in here see tons of shitheads everyday who end up dropping out in three months. They’re just jaded, following protocol. Don’t let it get to you.”

Jake, always the voice of reason.

“Listen, it’s almost three,” he continued. “I told Gisele I’d get food with her at four.” He made a face. “You know how she is about time.”

Shane sighed. “Yeah, I know. Get out of here. Don’t want the warden coming after me for holding you up too long.”

“The _warden_?” asked Jake, laughing. “You’re so stupid. Peace, idiot.”

He gave Shane a grin before running off.

 

\---

 

Shane was used to Jake being around.

They’d been friends since junior high. It was obvious to their classmates that they were from the wrong side of the tracks; their shabby clothes and cheap, unstylish backpacks marked them like a scarlet letter. They took the city bus together, every day. The dedicated school buses wouldn’t touch their neighborhood otherwise.

Shane spent most of his time after school at Jake’s grandma’s house, listening to music with him, tossing gridballs at the park, talking about girls, pirating movies, and playing video games until Jake’s grandma would come in and yank the console’s power cable out of the wall, fed up with them for being too boisterous.

He was too embarrassed to let Jake come over to his mom’s apartment, though. Shane had no idea what kind of mood she’d be in when he got home day to day. She also had a penchant for hoarding and often let the place get _unbearably_ filthy.

When high school came around, Jake’s good grades got him placed in a different school. They still met up after class almost every day, certainly every weekend, to do their usual bullshit.

It wasn’t until junior year that everything changed.

Jake had met a girl at school. She had asked him to the movies. Nervously, he asked Shane for advice.

“My chem partner asked me on a date,” he said. “I feel like...it’s a trick? She’s  _hot_ too.”

“A _girl_ asked _you_ on a date,” Shane said flatly. “Do you have any idea how good you’ve got it? Just go, dumbass.”

And he did.

Shane seldom saw Jake after that. _She_ took up his afternoons and weekends now. Shane had at least made the varsity gridball team that year. It helped keep his mind off how lonely he felt. Still, he made the effort to hit up Jake every weekend.

Suddenly, Jake had all sorts of excuses.

“Can’t drink at the party. Gisele will kill me.”

“Sold my guitar. Gisele was complaining about the noise.”

“Can’t hang. Gisele was using my laptop and found my porn folder. She’d be _pissed_ if I went out right now. Gotta wait for her to cool it.”

Shane was sick of her shit before he even met her.

When he finally did, it was just as he expected.

She was attractive, just like Jake said. A typical primped-and-prissy girl from uptown Zuzu. Shane knew the type. Girls like her used to make fun of him and Jake in junior high, speaking just loud enough so that they _knew_ they were making fun of them.

They had decided to go to a diner the night Jake formally introduced them. She was condescending and bored the entire time.

“Your shirt has a stain on it,” was the first thing she had said to Shane.

He hated her.

 

—-

 

“Hey, so, did you meet Lyna at the party?” asked Jake.

Shane and Jake were playing video games and blowing off steam after cramming for exams, a case of beer between them. They were reunited after both enrolling at University of Zuzu City, splitting the rent in a meager apartment.

Shane tried to recall. He was absolutely _trashed_ at the Spirit’s Eve party.

“She was the one with like, blonde hair, right?”

“Err...yeah, dark blonde, I guess. More like a light brown. She was in a Tunnelers jersey.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“Yeah! What’d you think?”

Shane thought hard for a moment. She was plain, of average build and height, with kind, green eyes and a sweet smile. They had hung out for a bit, talking about school and gridball. Truthfully, he found her a bit bland.

“She’s alright,” admitted Shane. “She’s cute.”

Jake grinned. “She said the same thing about you.” He mashed his controller and successfully executed a combo on Shane. “She’s a friend from high school. Want me to put in a good word? Set something up? She’s cool as hell.”

“ _Dude_ ,” said Shane, pleasantly surprised. “Alright.”

 

—-

 

Lyna was icy as she drove Shane home.

He had told her that he’d take the metro home from the party that night. Instead, he drank too much, threw up, blacked out, and missed the last train.

He came to at 3 AM, roused awake by the girl who threw the party, screaming at him to get out of her house.

He woke Lyna up with a phone call to ask for a ride. He was nursing a bottle of water outside a 24/7 convenience store when she finally rolled up in her car. She said nothing when he got in.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” she asked finally, her voice stiff, eyes on the road.

Shane kept his eyes closed, the rumble of the car upsetting his stomach again. “Yeah.”

“Shane, I swear to Yoba, you better go,” she warned him. “Didn’t you say they’re gonna drop you if you miss another class?”

“I’ll go.”

“You better promise.”

“I’ll fucking _go_ , alright?”

She sighed, sniffling.

Shane said nothing.

She had put up with him for a year at that point. It started out alright. They had fun, she was into gridball, and for the most part, she knew when he was in a bad mood and when to back off when she needed to.

Shane had to admit that it was nice to have someone who would make him food and pick up after him. He felt bad, but she usually did it on her own anyway, quietly, never rubbing it in his face, even though they both knew she easily could.

There were some moments where he felt irritated by her presence. Sometimes, he wanted to be alone and enjoy some TV or a video game. It wasn’t enough that she wanted to hang out with him constantly—they _had_ to be doing the same thing, _together._

It scared him sometimes. She was operating on a level of commitment that he had not ever even entertained at that point. She clearly gave a fuck about him, his future, _their_ future, and Shane wasn’t used to that.

He wasn’t ready for her.

 

—-

 

Jake huffed a frustrated sigh, slamming the door behind him.

“Gisele threw out my soundboard and pedals last night,” he said frantically. Shane recognized the growing edge in his voice as anger.

“ _What_?!” exclaimed Shane. “Why?”

“We got in a fight,” said Jake. “I got written up for tardies at work, and she blamed it on band practice keeping me up late. Said if I actually gave a fuck about our relationship, I’d get my act together and quit playing shows.”

“Of all the fucking shit she’s pulled, that’s the last straw,” snapped Shane, jumping up. “Why the _fuck_ are you still with that awful bitch?”

Jake faltered.

“I came here to vent, man,” he said. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Fucking listen to yourself. For ten fucking years--a _literal_ decade--she’s told you what to eat, how to dress, what to do, shit on your music, shit on your hobbies, shit on everything _you_ want to do, shit on _me_ ,” Shane listed, ranting. “When is enough enough? How many more times are you just gonna ‘come here to vent’? She’s _miserable_ , and she’s making you fucking miserable, can you not see that?”

“That’s enough,” said Jake. His voice flatlined. “I’ve let you say a lot of shit about her all these years. Don’t say another fucking word.”

Shane scowled at him. Jake didn’t get like this often.

“She only keeps me on the straight and narrow because we want to start a family, dude,” he said dully. “Now we’re 25, and only getting older. I need a decent job to support us. We need to save for a down payment on a house. I can’t spend all my fucking money on effect pedals and beer. And she’s been patient with me.”

“Real fucking patient,” snarled Shane. “So patient, she throws your shit away. And she’s always got something to say, doesn’t she? She ever learn to ask for anything nicely?”

“You have _no idea_ how much she appreciates that you and I are friends,” Jake retorted. “Do you know how many times she’s told me she’s glad that you’re always there for me? How many times she said she’s thankful that someone has my back?”

Jake’s voice raised. “You know, it was _her_ idea to get you and Lyna together. Said you’d probably do good to date someone like her. Said maybe it’d teach you how to act right.”

Shane was silent. The words were like a slap to the face.

“But honestly, you treat her like _shit_. And honestly, she deserves better. I don’t know what it’s gonna take for _her_ to say ‘enough is enough.’ You drink all fucking day, you dropped out of school, and you project all your fucking insecurities on everyone else.” Jake walked back towards the door.

“You know, Shane—in general, _you’ve_ kind of become a real big piece of fucking shit. Gisele once said that you’re a good dude and that she’d be glad to set you up with her friend. I agreed with her back then. Now, I’m not so sure.”

He opened the door to leave.

“Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

He left, slamming it shut behind him.

 

\---

 

Jake was the first one to apologize. He sent a text to Shane a week after the argument, telling him he loved him, he was his brother, he was sorry, and he shouldn’t have blown up on him like that. Shane had felt the same way.

It had been months since then. Still, Jake’s words were the wakeup call he needed. He had been trying to cut down on his drinking, and tried to pick up his weight around the apartment more. He tried to be softer and kinder to Lyna.

Today, Shane and Lyna were on their way to Jake and Gisele’s apartment for their baby shower.

When Jake first told Shane they were expecting, Shane was surprised with himself. If it had happened just a year ago, he would have felt furious anger, upset that his best friend had sealed the final deal to doom himself to a life of complacency with, in Shane’s opinion, an utterly irredeemable bitch.

But he hadn’t felt that way. Jake’s face said it all. This was what he wanted. And Shane was happy for him.

Shane sat in the passenger side of Lyna’s car, carefully holding a vase of flowers. It was his idea to get them for Gisele, besides the practical gift of diapers, towels, and bottle cleaners (all Lyna’s idea). Lyna smiled at him as he balanced the vase precariously on his lap.

At the baby shower, Jake had taken Gisele by the hand, gotten down on one knee, and pulled a ring out. Tears streamed down her face as she immediately screamed, “ _Yes_!”

Lyna looked at Shane excitedly before she pulled out her phone to record the proposal. The entire time, Shane couldn’t stop watching her.

They had sex when they got home that night. For the first time in a long time, Shane felt something for Lyna, an appreciation and thankfulness for her unconditional love and support.

Maybe Jake was on to something. Maybe it _was_ time to grow up. Maybe commitment wasn’t something to be afraid of.

For years, Lyna had been good to him.

 

\---

 

Shane was the first visitor allowed into the delivery room. He came in to Jake sitting with a tiny bundle cradled in his arms. Gisele was resting on the bed, watching him warmly.

The baby was slightly premature, but healthy. They named her “Jasmine,” after Gisele’s mom who had passed away a few years ago.

“Want a turn?” asked Jake, grinning at Shane.

“Uh...sure. Just show me how.”

Jake gingerly passed her to him. “Just make sure to keep her head propped up.”

Shane took the small bundle, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of newborn baby. Her hair was already thick and dark. Shane couldn’t tell which of her parents she looked like just yet.

“Hey, babe,” Gisele said weakly. “Can you check and see if they’ve got pudding or jello or something? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Yeah.” Jake scrambled out into the hall.

Gisele watched Shane as he held the baby. He felt awkward, unsure if he should be rocking her, or if she was too small for that just yet. He felt a strange feeling welling inside him as he held something so precious close to his chest.

“I’m glad you came,” said Gisele. “Jake said he wanted you to be one of the first to swing by.”

“Yeah, of course,” he replied.

Gisele looked tired without her makeup and hair done. She was still a natural beauty, and even Shane was struck by how elegant she looked after the ordeal of childbirth.

“Shane,” she started. “I always felt like we got off on the wrong foot. And it’s taken way too long for me to say this, but...I’m sorry.”

Shane looked at her, quietly shocked.

“I’m sorry that I was unfriendly. I’m sorry it took me so long to see how important you are to Jake. But I wanted to say ‘thank you’ for being like a brother to him, for as long as I can remember. There’ve been hardly any big decisions he’s made that he didn’t consult with you on first,” she said, smiling.

“Gisele, _I’m_ sorry,” blurted out Shane. “I was too stupid to see you were just trying to help him make something out of himself. I’m sorry for all the awful shit I said about you.” He was finally voicing thoughts that had kept him up for a year at that point. It felt good to say it out loud.

Her eyes grew shiny. “Oh, Yoba. I’m sorry too, Shane.” She dabbed the corner of her eyes with her hospital gown. “I can tell you’re trying to do better.”

Jake came back in with a cup of pudding and a plastic spoon in hand. He looked at the two of them, bewildered.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m just hormonal,” laughed Gisele, her eyelashes glistening with tears. “Should we tell him now, babe?”

“Yeah.” Jake set the food down on a little pull-out table. He sat back down next to Shane.

“Listen, man.” He put his arm around Shane’s shoulder. “We want to name you Jasmine’s godfather.”

Shane felt a lump rise in his throat. He bowed his head.

“I fucking love you guys,” he said, his voice quavering. “It’d be an honor.”

The three of them laughed, tears in their eyes.

 

\---

 

Lyna stomped ahead of Shane up the stairs to their apartment, sniveling and hiccuping angrily.

He had decided to go watch a Tunnelers game at a sports bar with some old gridball teammates on Friday night. He invited Jake, but he flaked last minute. Just as Shane was going to head out to pick him up, he got a text from him saying he needed to stay home; Jas had just hit her terrible twos and had become quite the handful.

The Tunnelers won. Shane and the rest of the bar partook in rounds of shots in celebration. He stayed until last call.

He had driven himself that night, not exceptionally worried. Cops were on the prowl for drunk drivers on game nights, but his apartment was in the suburbs. He'd look at his phone for checkpoints before leaving the bar.

He had been doing 80 in the fast lane, eager to get home after the long night. Suddenly, traffic came to a dead stop in front of him, late night construction closing the right lanes and forcing everyone to funnel to the left.

He was still a little drunk. He didn’t realize until it was too late. He hurtled towards the stationary cars in front of him incomprehensibly quickly.

He wouldn't be able to brake in time.

He slammed the brakes and pumped the e-brake, the tires locking and screeching.

He was still skidding rapidly towards the line of cars in front of him. There were more cars closing in on his right.

He was fucked.

He veered the wheel to the left to avoid them.

Time slowed. He collided with the center divider. He watched and braced himself as the grill of his car made contact with the concrete wall. It was almost as if he could see the metal crushing inwards frame-by-frame, millisecond by millisecond.

Time sped up again as his entire body catapulted forward, cracking like a whip as his seat belt caught him, the strap biting into his shoulder, chest, and neck, his head slamming into his steering wheel. The airbags exploded around him.

He was conscious, barely. He wasn’t sure how long he was in there until a blinding light flashed through the airbags.

“You alright?”

Shane was too dazed to respond. He had made some stupid, drooling noise in response.

He could make out the glint of a badge on the stranger’s chest.

“Smells like he’s been drinking.”

Some EMTs came around the driver’s side and pulled him out. He couldn’t afford the ambulance ride, but they strong-armed him into it anyway.

He was bruised and beat up with minor lacerations, but debatably OK. They arrested him upon discharge from the hospital. It was Lyna who had to collect him from the station two days later.

She silently turned her key in their apartment door, both stepping in before she closed it behind them.

“You-- _fucking!_!”

Lyna erupted into a frenzy, pushing and shoving Shane backwards, slapping at his arms and head. He raised his hands in defense, but he knew he fucking deserved it.

“ _Lyna_ \--”

“Of all the-- _fucking_ things! You _fucking asshole_! I _hate_ you!!” she screeched, red in the face. “What if Jake had gone with you?! You could have fucking _killed_ him! It’s a miracle you didn’t kill anyone else!!”

She exhausted herself, coughing from screaming so loud. After all his shortcomings and years of disappointment, she had never yelled or cursed at him like this. She covered her face with her hands and started to sob. She looked _so_ incredibly small.

Shane reached for her arm. “Lyna, I _love_ you, I’m sorr--”

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” she shrieked, wrenching out of his grasp. “I’m fucking mad at you. Just leave me _alone._ ”

 

\---

 

The following months were miserable.

Shane still had payments on the car he totaled. The crash was entirely his fault; insurance wouldn’t pay out for it. The projected price of paying for a new car along with his old one was dwarfed by the size of his new insurance premiums, his medical bills, his fines, and his attorney fees. Even if he could afford a new car, he’d have to get a breathalyzer installed. The biggest kick in the dick was that he’d have to pay for _that_ too.

And then, there was work. Despite dropping out of school and never getting his degree in film production, his experience with cameras and lighting had landed him a gig as a grip, working on small TV features and advertisements.

Half of the damn job was him assembling, dismantling and transporting equipment. There was absolutely no way he could keep it with a DUI on his record. He took the bus, and Lyna had tried her best to drive him around when she could, between her job and nursing school, but eventually, he had to tell his superiors what was going on. They let him go later that day.

Finally, there were the support group meetings.

Shane had been ordered to attend 24 alcoholic recovery support group meetings. On his first day, it could not have been made more apparent to him that he did not belong there.

There were some outliers. Another guy his age was there for his first DUI, along with a middle-aged man who had gotten pulled over after drinking at a business meeting. Mostly, the group was full of second and third time DUI offenders, some of them aggravated, and people who had relapsed several times, even after they were evicted out of their homes, or their spouses filed domestic abuse charges, or their kids were taken away, or they almost died of alcohol poisoning.

Jake had been angry--almost as angry as Lyna--when he found out. But he and Gisele were busy, and they didn’t have much to say. Shane wanted to believe it was because they were too wrapped up with Jas, with building their home, and with plans to conceive again soon. Part of him was convinced that they weren’t surprised at all, and were just over him and his antics.

“I don’t know what to say, man,” Jake said to him over the phone, his voice tired. “I’m glad you’re okay. But you just _can’t_ keep doing this shit, Shane.”

 

\---

 

Another day in the stuffy apartment.

After losing his production gig, Shane spent most of his days job hunting, to no avail. He had taken an extremely part-time associate gig at an electronics store down the street in the meantime.

He woke up that morning to Lyna, half dressed, looking for a matching pair of scrubs in her dresser.

“Get some laundry done today?” she asked him, throwing her hair up into a ponytail. “And no pizza. I know it’s easier than cooking, but you’ve gotten chubby.”

Shane sighed. He hated when she reminded him, and he _knew_ that she knew it. “Yeah.”

She gave him a peck goodbye before grabbing her backpack and trailing out the door.

She had been getting short with him. They argued all the time now, and hadn't had sex since before his DUI, even. Shane doubted she even liked him anymore.

He’d been moping for months, unable to land any work, either due to the lack of transportation, or his conviction, or both.

He would usually get moving by 10 AM. He’d have a bowl of cereal or two, and if he didn’t have a shift that day, he’d gradually move to having beer while looking online for work.

He’d often take the bus to hang out at Jake and Gisele’s after he exhausted the job listings for the day, letting them take a breather from chasing Jas around all day long. He texted Jake to see if he was still game to hang out that evening, but hadn’t received a response yet.

He was just there a few nights ago. He and Jake kicked back with a couple of beers and played some old games from their childhood, shooting the shit. Jas was always happy to see him, tottering to him as soon as he stepped through the door, babbling excitedly to her “Unco Shay.”

It was about 2 PM when the doorbell rang. Shane sat up abruptly. He was still in flannel pajama bottoms and an old, faded t-shirt. He suspiciously walked over to the door, looking through the peephole.

It was a cop.

Shane immediately thought of his DUI, but couldn’t think of why a lone officer would politely ring his doorbell if he were in any further trouble. Maybe he was just asking about the neighbors, or the apartment complex, or something.

Cautiously, he opened it.

“Shane Bandelin?” asked the officer. He was holding his cap.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Shane tentatively.

“Officer Stafford, Zuzu County Sheriff’s Department,” said the officer. “Are you familiar with a Mr. Jacob Cervantes or Mrs. Gisele Cervantes?”

Shane’s heart sank. “Yeah.”

“You are listed as Mr. Cervantes’ emergency contact in his cellphone, as well as on paperwork provided by his employer. What is your relation to him?

“He’s my best friend,” Shane managed to choke out, his voice hoarse. “We grew up together. He’s my brother.”

“May I come inside and speak to you for a moment?”

 

\---

 

Shane sat in the bathroom, unable to answer any of Lyna’s pleading on the other side of the door.

He sobbed and wheezed silently, his nose completely plugged up, tears spilling uncontrollably down his face for hours. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey he brought in there with him, swigging deeply from it.

“Shane,” said Lyna softly, trying again to coax him out of there. “Your work won’t stop calling you, you should at least let them know what’s going on, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

She let out a sad sigh as he said nothing. Shane heard her walk away and answer his phone.

“Hello? No, this is his girlfriend. He won’t be able to come in today. His brother passed yesterday. I know, I'm sorry on his behalf, but he’s taking it badly. Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.”

 

\---

 

They finally broke up.

Lyna came home from a late shift at the hospital to find Shane blacked out, asleep in a pool of his own vomit as it seeped through the carpet.

It'd been a month since the funeral, and Shane had effectively shut down. He stopped showing up at work, and they stopped calling him. He slept for 12 hours daily, and felt unable to get himself out of bed to look for jobs.

He drank himself sick every day instead.

Lyna screamed in frustration.

“I can't _do_ this anymore, Shane!” she sobbed, struggling to roll him off his back. “My life can't be like this _every_ day! I can't work 14 hour days and have to check in on you and feed you! I can't _pay rent_ by myself! I can't be spending my lunch breaks looking for job listings for you! I _can't_!”

Shane opened his eyes to look at her and he knew it was over.

They talked a little the next morning once he was sober, and it was clear that they had should have called it quits months, if not years, ago. He admitted that he was complacent. She admitted that even when things were bad, she was always too scared to go through with it.

He collected what little belongings he had. All the furniture in the apartment was hers anyway.

He had called his mother for the first time in years. She told him it was fine to come over.

He came back to that old apartment that he grew up in, the carpet and walls even grubbier and more dated than he last remembered, the omnipresent smell of water damage, cigarette smoke, and rotting food _somewhere_ in the fridge permeating the place.

His mom looked exponentially older. Gravity had taken a toll on her face, her eye bags and jowls sagging. She had lost a lot of weight and looked really unhealthy and birdlike.

“Hi, baby,” she slurred to him when she answered the door. “Come in. Sorry. I’m still clearin’ all my shit out of your old room.”

He followed her into it and was horrified to see that the room was crammed with all sorts of antiques and appliances she had thrifted, stacks of unopened letters from collection agencies peppering haphazard piles of useless junk.

His mom seemed to be in a daze, picking things up one at a time, inefficiently putting it down in another spot in the room. She was conked out on medications or Yoba knew what else.

Shane had no other choice.

 

\---

 

Shane sat on the rumbling bus, cradling a sleeping Jas in his arms.

The last few days were a blur. He had been back with his mom for a week, and finally started doubling down on the job search, knowing he had to get the fuck out of that hellhole as soon as possible.

He got another knock on his door, this time from a Child Protective Services agent. Shane almost fell to his knees, breaking down as soon as she told him where she was from. He knew what was coming next.

“There is no next of kin,” she tried to tell him. “You were named Jasmine's appointed guardian in the event of their passing.”

He couldn’t bring Jas to his mom’s. He wouldn’t allow her to live in such a state.

Desperate, he had called his Aunt Marnie, his dad’s younger sister, for advice.

He was worried. He hadn’t talked to her in a while and didn’t want to seem like he was doing so out of convenience.

Marnie was the good egg from his dad’s side of the family. She had always been around when Shane was a kid, always doing what his parents couldn’t; driving all the way out from the Valley to come to his gridball games, paying for badly needed new shoes or school clothes, teaching him how to drive one summer when he stayed at her ranch.

He told her everything. Without even thinking about it, she told him to pack his bags and move in with her.

It was late when Shane arrived in Pelican Town. He stepped off the bus, carefully slung his backpack on, loaded his and Jas’ stuff into her stroller, and headed to the ranch.

When Marnie answered the door and saw him standing there, his entire life in a few trash bags and a sleeping toddler in the stroller, she burst into tears.

“Come here, honey,” she blubbered, grabbing him and hugging him tightly. “You’re _home_ now.”

 

\---

 

Shane was unable to clear his mind, brooding all night, until the sun came up and his alarm clock went off. His hangover started to kick in, his mind reeling after he remembered how much he had told Mila on the dock, and he realized it was just another fuck-up he’d made in a long line of fuck-ups. His whole life, it seemed, was one big fuck-up marathon.

He felt like every single good thing that had come his way was cursed the moment it was in his grasp. And he was always too stupid to realize it until it was too late.

He didn’t feel sad, though. He was too tired to. Too tired of himself, too tired of his circumstances that led him to where he was today.

He sighed, rubbing his face. He rolled out of bed and started to get ready for work.


End file.
